


Feels Like Forever

by unn_known



Series: Feels Like Forever [1]
Category: One Direction
Genre: Child Neglect, F/M, Heartbreak, Smut, Updating tags as I go, coffeeshops are great for meet-cutes, i go to it all the time, implied child neglect, seriously - the mom is the worst, terrible parenting, the coffeeshop in this story actually exists
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2020-12-17 14:51:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 68
Words: 128,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21056225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unn_known/pseuds/unn_known
Summary: Emilie Ellis has been the go-to guardian when it comes to her sixteen-month-old godson since the day he was born. Between Ryder and schooling, her life is full enough, filled with responsibility and happiness in turns. So of course it would stand to reason that when she’s finally accepted her lot in life, that her entire existence revolves around Ryder, someone with hypnotising blue eyes and a gorgeous Irish accent would barrel into the picture and turn everything on its head.complete





	1. one.

The bell jingles over the door, signalling the arrival of another patron, but Emilie keeps her focus on the notes she’s taking. Class had been disrupted by a family emergency, so the professor’s TA had created a PowerPoint with the information and sent the link to the students; the only stipulation was that after today, it would no longer be available for viewing without a valid excuse as to why one couldn’t copy it down in the time allotted. She reaches blindly for her danish with one hand, taking a bite while continuing to write. A crumb falls on her paper, and she swipes it away quickly.

“Uh, excuse me? Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

She holds up a finger and finishes the word she’s on before looking up. The man gives her a nervous, hopeful smile; true to his word, every other table in the coffeeshop is occupied except for the seat across from her. Biting her lip, she pulls her laptop closer and gestures toward the chair. He sits slowly, as if he’s expecting her to bite if he moves too fast.

“Thanks.”

“No worries.”

Emilie ignores the puzzled expression on his face as he glances down at her notebook. The symbols on the page are damn near impossible to read for someone who doesn’t know the cypher, which is exactly what she’s gone for since the first week of school when her desk-mate first started trying to borrow her notes instead of paying attention during lectures. He hasn’t asked again, and she’s been happy with that result. Sure, learning the cypher was difficult in the beginning, but now she reads it as easily as the Latin alphabet.

“And here you are, sir. Sorry about the wait.”

Emilie stretches her back as Derek sets a plate and a to-go cup of coffee in front of the man at the table. She checks her phone; it’s only ten o’clock in the morning, but she’s been here since the shop opened at six-thirty. The ice in her drink melted a long time ago. She sucks up the last mouthful, and Derek smiles widely at her she hands over her plate and empty cup. He promises to be right back with another, leaving her and the man alone.

“Come here often?”

She stares at the man, unimpressed. He appears to realise how his words came off, ducks his head with an awkward laugh.

“Sorry, it’s just… you seem comfortable here, and he didn’t even ask what you were drinking. Or for payment, now that I think about it.”

She shrugs. “They know me, yeah.”

They fall silent, and Emilie goes back to her notes. After another ten minutes, she reaches the end of the slideshow, scribbles down the final symbol, and flips her notebook shut. The man looks up from his phone screen, raising an eyebrow.

“Can I ask why you write like that?”

She hesitates but decides there’s no harm in explaining, so she does. He laughs quietly and nods along, then tells her about his own school-years. It turns into a conversation about their childhoods, friends, and homes. Emilie has always been cautious about talking to strangers, but there’s something about this man that doesn’t send alarm bells screaming in her head. So she lets herself get lost in their chat, interrupted only by each other as they laugh and talk over each other. Her phone vibrates on the table, and she glances down at it as she tells him about the time she broke her arm after jumping into her friend’s pool from ten feet high in a nearby tree, frowning at the reminder that’s popped up.

“Ah, shit. Sorry to do this, but I really gotta run. It was, uh, it was great to meet you…?”

“Oh! Niall.”

Her lips curve upward, and she reaches out a hand to shake his. “Emilie.”

“It was wonderful to meet you, too, Emilie. Hopefully, I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Well, if you’re gonna be in Austin for a while, it’s a possibility.”

Derek approaches the table, and Niall turns to speak to him. Emilie deliberates for less than five seconds then quietly rips a square of paper from her notebook, scrawling down her name and number in the code she uses, printing in small letters _Google it_ at the bottom. She slides it across the table until it’s partially underneath Niall’s phone, waves goodbye to Derek, and gathers up her stuff.

It isn’t until she’s back at her apartment that she realises that maybe using a cypher wasn’t the smartest idea, but she shrugs it off. If Niall is interested in talking to her, he can put in the effort. She pushes the thought from her mind and settles in to wait for Ryder to arrive.

She’s just laid her godson down for the night when her phone vibrates in her back pocket. Emilie holds her breath to make sure the toddler is going to stay asleep then tiptoes from the room. She retrieves her cell phone and unlocks it as she picks up the books and toys scattered across the floor. It’s a new text message from an unknown number. Her brows furrow, and she stops in her tracks, juggling her armful of items as she brings up the message. A laugh bubbles up at the sight of the photo attached: a string of shakily-drawn symbols - her cypher - that spell out Hi Emilie it is Niall. She sets her phone down and hurries to put away Ryder’s playthings before grabbing her phone again and typing out a message.

  
**Emilie:** Ahh you Googled!  
  
**Niall:** I did I did . It took a while but I finally found the decoder thing  
  
**Emilie:** It’s called a cypher, sweets :P I’m glad you did.  
**Emilie:** I didn’t want to presume that you would actually search for it, but you did! I didn’t realise how cruel it might seem until I came home  
  
**Niall:** So anyway hi, I figured out your code and I texted you . At least I hope you left it for me and not the barista …  
  
**Emilie:** Nahh, Derek has my number. They all do. If I’m running late, I just text one of them my order and my ETA, and they have it ready by the time I get there.  
  
**Niall:** That’s a pretty sweet setup ! I wish I had a coffeeshop like that. Most I have is Starbucks mobile ordering  
**Emilie:** Hah, yeah, it took me about… I wanna say 4 years before I found this place, and I haven’t gone back to any other place since.  
  
**Niall:** I’m jealous that you get to have it all the time lol so what are you up to ?  
**Emilie:** Just relaxing. It’s been a loooooooooong day.  
**Emilie:** Ah shit. Give me a sec.  


Emilie puts her phone on the table and rushes into the bedroom where Ryder has started crying. She picks him up, snuggles him close, and pats his back as she makes shushing noises. He doesn’t calm immediately, instead struggling against her hold, and she shifts until she can look at his face. He whines and stretches toward the floor; she glances down to see his stuffed animal on the floor halfway under the bed. She sets him down on the mattress and ducks down to grab up the purple lion. He takes it happily, giving her a sloppy kiss on the cheek when she leans over, and Emilie gives him a wide grin. His eyes start to droop immediately when she runs her fingers through his soft, feathery curls and starts to sing a quiet lullaby to him.

Twenty minutes later, he’s officially asleep again, and she makes her way back out to the living room. Niall has sent four messages in the half-hour she’s been gone. She unlocks her phone and reads over the texts.

  
**Niall:** Yeah I know how it goes. I'm glad to not be on the move for a bit. No problem ! Take your time  
**Niall:** Just so you know ... there's evidently a time limit on hotel room service  
**Niall:** I'm hungry :(  
**Niall:** Did you fall asleep lol  
  
**Emilie:** Ugh sorry. Ry woke up so I had to get him back to sleep. Poor kid.  
  
**Niall:** Not a problem. Hope he's sleeping well now then ?  
  
**Emilie:** Yeahhh. He dropped right off once he had Lionel the Lion again.  
  
**Niall:** Aww, good to hear! So who is Ry ?  
  


Emilie stares at the text for a long minute. This is usually the part where everyone runs away; even if all that she’s working towards is friendship, rarely does anyone stick around long after they find out about Ryder.

  
**Emilie:** Ryder is my 1 year old godson/nephew. Sort of. His mom and I used to be stepsisters but then our parents got divorced. But she kept me as his godmother. I'm basically helping her raise him.  
**Emilie:** I usually keep him on the weekends.  
  
**Niall:** Sounds like a lot of work. He's lucky to have someone who loves him so much  
  
**Emilie:** Yeah, he takes up most of my time. I don't mind it tho. He's probs my fav human on this earth lol  
  
**Niall:** That's awesome  
**Niall:** So what are your plans for the night ?  
  
**Emilie:** I'm about to bust into some wine and watch Letterkenny until I fall asleep lol. Such a raging party over here.  


Even as she continues texting Niall, Emilie can’t help but wonder when he’s going to disappear on her. It isn’t unusual for her acquaintances to ghost her once it becomes evident just how important Ryder is to her, how much time she spends with the child instead of focusing her attentions on building friendships. Derek is pretty much the only one who’s stuck with her through everything, and that’s only because it would be awkward if he hadn’t, considering she sees him at the coffeeshop four days a week. She chews on her lower lip and decides to worry about the end of this tentatively-budding friendship later, too enraptured by how easy it is to talk to him for the doubts to settle in fully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
**  
**  
_look at this feckin' cutie stop it niall_  
  



	2. two.

  
**Niall**I'm bored  


Emilie smiles to herself but gets distracted by the book that Ryder hands her. He crawls up into her lap, settles against her chest, and she sets her phone aside. His solid weight on her legs is comforting; she presses a kiss to his soft hair and opens the book, starting to read about a boy and his stuffed velveteen rabbit. Ryder’s finger slides across the pages as she talks, and he gives her a scrunched-faced grin when she tickles him without losing her place.

“More!” he demands when she closes the book, and Emilie laughs.

“No more rabbit, my little reader. And besides, it’s time for a snack. Let’s go get some Goldfishes.”

“Fishy! Fishy!”

Ryder toddles clumsily to the kitchen, rocks side-to-side in front of his high-chair. Emilie scoops him up quickly just to hear that sweet giggle of his then plops him into the chair, buckling him with the ease of familiarity and practice. As soon as he has a handful of the fish-shaped crackers, she grabs his cup of juice from the fridge, sets it on the tray, and goes back to the couch to get her phone.

  
**Emilie:** Sorry! Ry wanted a story.  
**Emilie:** I'm sorry you're bored  
  
**Niall:** No need to apologise about either of those things. I assume story time is over ?  
  
**Emilie:** Yep! Now it's time for him to eat ALL THE FISHIES  
  
**Niall:** .... what ?  
  
**Emilie:** Goldfish snack crackers. lol they're his fav  
  
**Niall:** Okay I was worried for a second that he was being allowed to eat raw fish  
  
**Emilie:** Nahhh. Sushi comes later in life lmao  
**Emilie:** So what are you up to?  
  
**Niall:** Nothing . As I said I'm bored  
  
**Emilie:** Well, there's a lot to do in Austin but since Ry has to go down for a nap in an hour or so, I won't be able to play tour guide /:  
**Emilie:** But if you don't mind hanging out with a seriously under-caffeinated and over-homeworked college student and a hyperactive 16 month old, I guess you could hang out here?  
  
**Niall:** Really ?  


  
_Oh, don’t let me regret this_, Emilie thinks even as she sends back a message with her address. The typing bubble appears then disappears before his response comes in, a simple _Be there soon_. She glances at Ryder, snorting out a laugh when he slams two crackers together with an exaggerated kissing sound. His face splits with a grin, and she rounds the bar-counter to take the Goldfish he offers. Not even caring about the fact that it’s damp, she pops it into her mouth then kisses his cheek.

“Auntie Emilie has to get changed, okay? So you sit here and eat your snack, then we’ll do some art.”

Ryder responds by crunching on another cracker. Emilie tousles his hair then makes her way to her bedroom. She knows that it doesn’t matter what she wears - this is literally only a chance for two people to hang out, while away the time; it isn’t a date, by any means - but a T-shirt that’s definitely seen better days and a ratty pair of cotton shorts is not the style she wants anyone to regularly associate with her, especially not Niall. She asks herself why she even cares about his opinion, though it doesn’t stop her from grabbing her favourite leggings from the closet, stepping out of her shorts and pulling the leggings on. She trades her Minnie Mouse shirt for a pale-blue sleeveless tunic, frowning at her reflection in the mirror.

“An’ Em!”

“What’s up, little man?” Emilie stifles a giggle when she steps out of her room; Ryder’s face is covered with orange-yellow crumbs, and chunks of partially-chewed Goldfish hang from the front of his hair. “Oh, god, you’re a mess. Are you done?”

“I done.”

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up then.”

She’s just sat him down on the mat on the living room floor when a knock echoes through the apartment. His big blue eyes find hers, face scrunching up in confusion; Emilie pulls the bucket of crayons off the top of the bookshelf and places a stack of blank paper in front of him. Ryder immediately begins digging through the tub. The visitor is already forgotten in his eagerness to colour. She strokes his cheek with a finger then pushes herself to her feet.

“It’s ridiculously difficult to find your flat, and those maps on the walls aren’t any help,” is the first thing Niall says when she opens the door, and Emilie shrugs apologetically.

“If you’d texted me when you got here, I could have told you the exact route to take.”

“I… didn’t think of that.”

“Well, obviously.” Emilie steps back so he can come in, closing the door and locking it behind him. His brow raises; belatedly, she realises what this must look like. “Sorry, gotta keep the door locked. Ryder likes exploring.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, you can leave whenever you want. I’m not gonna, like, murder you and wear your skin while I sell your eyeballs on the black market.”

“That, that really doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Too specific?”

“Much too specific.”

She grimaces and leads Niall to the living room. Ryder doesn’t look up from the page he’s scribbling on, but she hadn’t really expected him to. She gestures for her guest to sit on the couch, makes her way to the kitchen. Nerves suddenly grip her as she watches Niall take in his surroundings. Extending the invitation for him to come over had been as unexpected for her as it was for him; she hadn’t thought about what she was doing before she sent the message. And now that he’s here, she is really beginning to hate her past-self. Running her fingers nervously through her hair, she somehow manages to ask him if he wants something to drink. This is easy, just calm down, she orders as she grabs two glasses from the cupboard.

“So this must be the infamous Ryder.”

Emilie’s lips quirk, and she hides her smile by taking a small sip of her pineapple-orange juice. “Yup. This little guy is why I don’t have a life. Hey, Ry? Can you say hi to Niall?”

Ryder shakes his head, drops his crayon in exchange for a different one, then goes back to his artwork. Emilie sighs, hanging her head, even as Niall snorts in amusement. She should have known the kid would be shy; it took him months to warm up to Derek, so of course he would be reserved around someone completely new. She gives Niall an apologetic shrug, but he doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on watching the purple crayon in Ryder’s hand making ever-larger swirls on the paper. There’s a small smile on the man’s lips, as if he’s amused by watching a child, one who isn’t even two yet, as he scribbles on a sheet of printer paper.

“So…”

Niall’s gaze jerks from Ry, and he clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry. I’m not good company today, am I?”

“Dude, I never expect anyone to be good company,” Emilie says with a laugh. “It’s barely eleven in the morning, anyway, so you have a few hours before I get disappointed at your lack of entertaining me.”

“You’re very blunt, aren’t ya,” he huffs on a laugh.

“I try my best.”

Her phone buzzes in her hand, and she sends the incoming call to voicemail. Paige is a lovely woman, and Emilie was honestly upset to lose her as a stepmother, but every conversation with the woman serves to give Emilie a migraine; too often, the topic shifts to Danielle, and Emilie has such a hard time biting her tongue where her former stepsister is concerned. They’d had a good childhood together, they were family for fifteen years, but Danielle has drastically changed from the nine-year-old girl Emilie once knew. It’s more than evident in the way that she treats her son, the way she prefers to live her life however she wants with no consideration toward the sixteen-month-old she’s supposed to be raising.

“You okay?”

Emilie’s head snaps up. Niall is staring at her, his brows drawn together over his concerned eyes. She forces a smile, clears the lump from her throat. Nodding, she sets her phone aside and shifts on the sofa until her back is against the armrest, and she leans into the back of the couch.

“Yeah, I’m, I’m good.”

“Not someone you wanted to talk to?”

“Not particularly, no. Well, not right now. I’ll call her back later.”

His scrutiny causes her to squirm, but thankfully, he lets it drop. Instead of saying more about the call and how quiet she’s gotten, he turns his attention back to Ryder, laughs when the child suddenly stands and plants his little hands on his hips, frowning down at the picture he’s scribbled with the seriousness of an artist contemplating their latest work’s existence. Ryder ducks down to pick the paper up off the mat and toddles over to his aunt; she takes the paper from him, ignores how heavy Niall’s gaze is on her, and makes a big fuss of how beautiful the mess of thick, multi-coloured lines and squiggles are. Ryder giggles and crawls up onto Emilie’s lap, resting his head against her collarbone.

“You ready for lunch, my dude?”

Ryder nods but doesn’t make any effort to move. Emilie kisses his temple and stands, lifting him as she does. She buckles him into his high-chair then sets about peeling an apple and cutting it into wedges. Once that task is done, she scoops a spoonful of peanut butter onto the purple plastic plate and arranges the fruit around the blob. She hurriedly quarters a couple of slices of cheese and some ham, then sets the plate in front of Ryder. He immediately grabs up an apple, and Emilie leans over to press a kiss to his hair before going back to the couch. Niall glances up from his phone as she flops down, his lips quirking up at the corners.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, did you want something to eat, too? I shoulda asked.”

“No, thanks. I’m okay, had a big breakfast.”

“Okay. So… what brings you to Austin, anyway?”

Emilie is surprised when he says that golf is why he’s in her city. He doesn’t look like a golfer, in his joggers and T-shirt and sneakers. She shrugs it off, though; most people wouldn’t assume she’s basically a mother to a toddler upon first glance, or that she has a major addiction for coffee. She settles into the couch, tries to stifle a yawn. Her actions are unsuccessful, and her jaw lets out a cracking sound once the yawn forces its way out of her.

“I’m good, I’m good,” she says, waving a hand when Niall gestures toward the door, mouth opening. “Don’t worry. As I said, just over-homeworked and under-caffeinated. Didn’t get to hit the coffeeshop this morning like I normally do on Saturdays.”

“Why not?”

“Ry woke me up at, like, five this morning wanting attention then immediately fell asleep on me for a couple hours.”

“Sounds rough.”

“It was, but…” She shrugs and turns her head to watch her godson shoving smashed apple into the peanut butter. “He’s worth it, though.”

It isn’t long before Ryder is rubbing at his eyes, whining as he tries to squirm out of his high-chair. Niall follows her into the kitchen, and though she tries to protest, he ignores her and scrapes the remnants of food off the plate into the trashcan. Emilie decides it is easier to just let him do what he wants and grabs the washcloth off the side of the sink. She bites back her frustration when Ryder screeches and jerks his head around as she tries to wipe the mess away. Eventually, she gives up, his cheeks mostly cleaned now, and picks him up.

Ryder is already asleep by the time she finishes changing his diaper, and Emilie snorts in amusement. She carries him into the bedroom, lays him down on his cot, and tucks him in. He doesn’t even stir when she brushes her hand over his soft hair. Kissing his cheek tenderly, Emilie exits the bedroom, leaving the door cracked enough that she can hear if he wakes. She comes to an abrupt stop just outside her room, stares.

The mat that was on the floor has been rolled up and set on the bottom shelf, the bucket of crayons back where they belong on the bookshelf. The coloured-on papers are neatly stacked on the coffee-table; nothing of Ryder’s lunch remains on the high-chair tray, and his plate sits in the drying rack on the counter. Emilie blinks owlishly then turns her attention to Niall.

“Did… did you clean up?”

He shrugs sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I, yeah.”

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it.”

“You look like you keep busy enough with him, so I thought it would be nice to help a bit.”

“You’re a sweetheart, ain’t you?” Padding to the refrigerator, she grabs out the bottle of pineapple-orange juice, refills her glass. “So, since he’s napping, how do you feel about _The Twilight Zone_?”

“Er, never really watched it before.”

“You good with watching it?”

“Sure.”

She sets her glass on the coffee-table, reaching for her phone and bringing up the Roku app. Stretching out on the sofa, her legs dangling over the arm, she taps the icon for Hulu once her phone connects with the device on the TV stand. Her hand searches blindly for the throw blanket that she keeps draped over the back of the couch; she gives Niall a thankful grin when he passes it to her. She makes the decision to start the show from the very beginning, though it doesn’t matter - none of the episodes rely on the previous ones. She just really enjoys the ominous vibe and creepiness of the pilot episode. The familiar intonation of the narrator fills the room, and Emilie tilts her head back to see if Niall is paying attention. Satisfied that he is, she settles in more comfortably into the cushions.


	3. three.

The loud buzzing of her alarm jerks Emilie from the half-doze she’s been in for the last few hours, and she groans, tugging her pillow over her head. She was up until almost two in the morning the past two nights finishing up the paper she’s put off for weeks, and the silence of the apartment had lent the room necessary for her brain to dredge up all of her fears, shove them all into one awful nightmare. Not for the first time since she started the semester, she wonders why the Hell she ever signed up for a class that starts at eight a.m.

Emilie manages to push herself out of bed with a herculean effort, and she shuffles to the dresser, not caring which colour tank-top she pulls from the drawer; her leggings from Saturday are clean enough, so she tugs them on, thanks last-night-her for not wearing anything to bed. As she brushes her teeth, she thinks back to the hours she spent with Niall. He’d been just as easy to talk to on her couch as he was in the coffeeshop on Friday, and she had been surprised by Ryder appearing in the doorway to the bedroom a couple hours later, wide awake and ready to play again. She’d not realised that much time had passed.

What had taken Emilie aback even more was how interested Ryder was in Niall. He was still wary of the man, but he’d eventually begun to demand attention, and Niall had responded without hesitation, his expression open and hands gentle as he played with the cars with Ryder. The rest of the afternoon was spent like that - keeping the child entertained while also having their own conversations over his head. Niall had shifted his weight awkwardly as Emilie cooked dinner; it took her telling him to put his ass in a chair for him to stop hovering at the edge of her peripheral.

She felt awful about pulling out her homework while she was supposed to be visiting him, but she couldn’t delay writing the paper any longer. Niall had been so sweet about it. He’d made sure he was quiet enough for her to concentrate, and he even went so far as to be the sounding board when she wasn’t sure about how she phrased something in the paper. Unfortunately, he had to leave around eleven, but by then, she was much more confident in her abilities to bullshit her way through the assignment. His text forty-five minutes later letting her know he was back in his hotel room had loosened a tightness in her chest, a worry she hadn’t even been aware of feeling.

Emilie sighs, unplugs her phone from the charger, and makes her way out to the living room. She grabs her keys and bag from the bar-counter, tucking her phone into the pocket, and hurries out the door. After locking the door behind her, she rushes down the hall, her flip-flops slapping against the bottoms of her feet as she goes. The corridors are eerily silent, and she stifles the shiver that tries to run down her spine; she’s lived here for two years, she should be used to how insulated the walls are, how they prevent sound from travelling far.

It’s not even seven in the morning, and the air outside is already warm, promising higher temperatures. Emilie shoves her hair from her face and presses the button on the key-fob to unlock her car. The headlights flash in the dimness of the parking garage. She tosses her bag into the passenger seat, slides in behind the wheel, and quickly pulls the hair-tie off her wrist. After tying her hair back into a sloppy bun, she starts up the car, reverses from the space. A thought slams into her brain, and she tells Siri to send a text to Derek with the message _911 emergency caffeine required_. Wonderful man that he is, Derek has her drink ready by the time she walks into the coffeeshop. Emilie blows out a breath of relief, taking the cup from him, and he pats her head comfortingly. Monica laughs from her spot by the espresso machine at the glare Emilie sends her best friend.

“Long night, Emma-bean?”

“Not the way you’re thinkin’, Mon. Definitely not the way you’re thinkin’.”

“Aw, so no seeing that cutie you were talking to the other day?” Derek asks as he boxes up a couple danishes for Emilie.

“Cutie?” Monica abandons her task of rinsing out the portafilters, leaning against the counter with her hands cupping her chin; she bats her lashes rapidly. “Tell me more ‘bout this cutie.”

Emilie shrugs, slurps obnoxiously at her drink. “Nothing to tell. We talked a bit on Friday then I went home to wait for Danielle to drop off Ryder.”

“But he was cute?”

“He was all right, I guess.”

“Mon, I’m telling you, this guy was right up her alley. Dark hair, bright blue eyes, killer smile, and that kinda stubble she likes.”

“And you didn’t get his number?” Monica nearly screeches, and the only other customer in the building looks up in surprise.

“No, no, I did not.” Emilie takes the box from Derek, passes over a ten and a five. She waits until she’s halfway out the door before she calls over her shoulder, “But I certainly gave him mine.”

The door swings shut on their reactions, and she giggles as she makes her way to her car. Derek stands on the sidewalk by the time she finishes buckling up. He waves his hands in the air. Emilie rolls down her window and laughs when he demands that she text him more details. She wiggles her fingers in his direction, pulling out of the parking spot.

Derek  
  
**Derek:** How dare you not tell me you did that  
**Derek:** Does our friendship mean so little???  


  
Emilie sends back a dozen laugh-cry emojis then puts her phone on silent. She can’t have his text messages - the ones she _knows_ are going to be coming, even though he is at work and is supposed to be paying attention to his job - interrupting her lecture. Not again. Her face burns with the memory of the professor calling her out in front of the entire class. That isn’t something she wants to repeat.

Just like she expected, there are seventeen texts waiting for her to read them as soon as class lets out. Two are from Monica, both thankfully subdued - abnormally so, for the bubbly woman - and one came from Niall. Emilie hesitates then brings up the thread with Derek first, knowing that if she doesn’t respond the second she can, he’ll just send more. She promises him that they can talk more later, hopes it’ll be enough. The text from Niall is a simple one.

  
**Niall:** Hope your day is going well. It was great to hang out with you and Ryder the other day !  
  
**Emilie:** It really was fun! Sorry I ended up having to do homework ): Maybe next time you’re in town, I won’t be drowning in the weight of stupid assignments?  
  
**Niall:** I look forward to it.  


Emilie’s heart stutters in her chest, and she bites back a smile. A small part of her brain tells her she’s moving too fast if she is already developing feelings for this guy, but a larger part tells her to enjoy it while it lasts - it has an expiry date, and what’s the harm in indulging in a minor crush, as long as she remembers what’s really important? Her responsibilities will get in the way, as they always do, and she’s going to be left with nothing more than memories of the blue-eyed man who’s managing to turn her world upside down without any effort. So to let herself feel and acknowledge, it has to be good enough for now.

The next two weeks go by much the same: Between classes during the week and Ryder on the weekends, the days seem to blur together, and she’s hard-pressed to differentiate what happens when. Emilie somehow keeps up with her professor’s demands, and not having the looming weight of deadlines fast approaching means she can relax enough to not want to rip her hair out. Conversations with Niall become a regular fixture in her days, no matter how short they are - even simple _hey, hope your day’s going well!_ is enough.

Unfortunately, the more time that slips past means Emilie wakes up one morning at an ungodly hour to her phone ringing. She fumbles for it blindly, not even bothering to open her eyes. Derek’s voice is off-key and far too exuberant for whatever time it is as he sings the birthday song, and Emilie bites back a sigh, rubbing her eyes and pushing herself to sit up. She’s not the kind of person who can easily go back to sleep once she’s awake; it is a very unfortunate facet to who she is. She thanks her best friend as sincerely as she can for it being only four-thirty a.m., then hangs up on him, cuts off his excited chatter about their plans for the day. He should know by now that it’s just another day to her. As long as he brings wine, she doesn’t give a damn what they do, even if that means sprawling across the couch and making fun of awful rom-coms.

The coffee isn’t nearly as good as the kind the coffeeshop makes, but Emilie doesn’t care. She just drinks cup after cup and hopes she won’t be so tired soon. By the time her mug is empty for the fourth time, the sun is fully up in the sky, and there’s a faint buzzing under her skin from the influx of caffeine. She pins her hair back out of her face, turns her Pandora on shuffle, and sets about cleaning the apartment. There isn’t much to do, not really - just some light dusting, sweeping and mopping, and going through Ryder’s toys to get rid of the broken ones he won’t notice are gone as long as he doesn’t see her toss them in the trash.

Her phone chimes from the table, and Emilie swipes at her face then grimaces when she realises she’s just wiped a dusty cloth on her sweaty cheeks. Grabbing a dish towel from the kitchen drawer, she cleans her face and picks up the phone. Her brows raise at the time: 2:41. _Maybe there was more to clean than I thought_, she thinks even as she opens her text messages. A smile plays on her lips without her permission when she sees Niall’s name at the top.

Niall  
  
**Niall:** What are you up to ?  
  
**Emilie:** Not much, just finishing up some housework then hanging out with Derek once he gets off work.  
  
**Niall:** Sounds fun  
  
**Emilie:** Yeah, it usually is. Total rager, tbh. Twilight Zone, wine, and toasting to another trip ‘round the sun d:  
  
**Niall:** It’s his birthday ?  
  
**Emilie:** Nah, mine. I’m a whole whopping 25 now. Woo.   
  
**Niall:** Happy birthday !! Did you ever tell me when it was? Because if so I feel awful for forgetting  
  
**Emilie:** lololol nope, I didn’t. Birthdays aren’t massively important to me so even if I had and you forgot, I don’t really care  
  
**Niall:** Well happy birthday again. I hope you enjoyed your day so far  
  
**Emilie:** Thanks lol. So far, it’s been nice. Derek woke me up at ass o’clock to tell me happy birthday like the asshole he is, I skipped class, got the apartment all nice and clean and smelling good, got a promise of a free muffin at the coffeeshop whenever I go in again, and I’m all caught up on homework. And now I’m texting you. So, as I said, nice day (:  
  
**Niall:** I’m glad that I’m on the list of nice things that’s happened lol  
  


  
Emilie smiles to herself, biting her lip, and heads to the bathroom. After sending a _brb_ to Niall, she sets her phone on the sink counter, starts up the shower, and strips off her pyjamas. She’s halfway through rinsing the shampoo out of her hair when the door bursts open, and someone yanks the curtain back.

“Derek!”

“Happy birthday, hurry up.”

“Get the fuck outta here, what the Hell!”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t see anything!”

But he does leave, slamming the door behind him. Emilie tugs the curtain back into place and reaches for her body wash. She scrubs her body with a bit more force than necessary; her skin stings by the time she steps out of the tub, wrapping a towel around her body and another around her hair. Thankfully, Derek stays in the living room as she makes her way to her bedroom, phone in hand, to finish drying off and dress in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank-top.

“You hung up on me earlier.”

“You woke me up at four in the damn morning.”

He goes to say something then pauses, mouth open. Finally, he nods. “Fair. How’s your day been?”

“It’s been good. Coffee, no class, the place is clean. Can’t complain.”

She settles into the couch cushion, kicking her legs in happiness when Derek heads to the kitchen and gestures to the four bottles of wine on the counter like he’s a knock-off Vanna White. He grabs the wine glass he gifted her for her birthday last year - long-stemmed, delicate, and bearing the words _Hakuna Moscato: it means drink wine_. Once he’s filled their glasses, he carries them to the couch, goes back for the bottle.

“You ever think we might drink too much wine?” Emilie asks, taking a sip of the moscato, and Derek snorts.

“We don’t drink that much.”

She pins him with a flat look then rolls her eyes. “D, every time you come over, there are at least three bottles in the recycling the next day.”

“At least it’s wine, not whisky.”

“I’ll toast to that.”

As they drink, Emilie can’t help but feel like there’s something missing. Or, rather, someone. It isn’t until after they’ve cracked open the second bottle that she realises that she wishes Niall could be here. She pauses, glass halfway to her mouth, and wonders if it’s a bad sign. Derek doesn’t notice the way she shakes her head vehemently or the way she’s gone quiet in the realisation that somewhere along the way, the inkling of feelings she had towards Niall has blown into something more than just a crush, something harder to ignore. She forces herself to listen to Derek as he talks about the newest barista at the coffeeshop, and she vows to do her best to get rid of whatever she feels.


	4. four.

There is little success over the next week. Between the good morning texts and the random conversations throughout the day, it’s become a struggle for Emilie to ignore how her heart flutters in her chest, how she looks forward to talking to Niall. He’s so sweet and funny, and he even asks after Ryder regularly. He doesn’t judge her for sending random texts full of nothing but key-smashing when her homework starts frustrating her; he FaceTimes her at any time of day to listen to her vent, even when she knows he has to be busy doing what he does. The time zone difference rarely seems to matter to either of them. And it’s nice, it really is, to talk to him. However, she can’t quell the fear that he’s going to suddenly realise she’s not worth keeping in his life, but as much as she tries to build the barrier up so it won’t hurt when he does, it gets dismantled more and more with each passing day.

Emilie adjusts the volume on the stereo absentmindedly as her phone connects to the car’s Bluetooth. The morning is warm, bright, and the sky stretches overhead in a radiant blue blanket covering the city. She sighs blissfully; her plans won’t be knocked aside today, and even though she has plenty of coursework waiting for her at home, she can’t find it in her to care or feel guilty that she’s putting it off. She needs today.

She glances down at the display in the dashboard, tapping the skip button when Shawn Mendes’s _Treat You Better_ starts playing - she doesn’t understand how this song became so popular when it’s literally the epitome of “Nice Guy” anthem. The strum of a guitar meets her ears after a second, and Emilie smiles to herself when the smooth voice joins in, already enjoying the song even though it’s unfamiliar to her.

“I have seen, seen it all in paper dreams…”

The traffic light turns yellow, and Emilie comes to a stop at the line to wait. She checks the display again, wanting to know who she’s listening to so she can replay it later. Her brows draw together at the name, and she wonders just how common the name Niall is. When she looks up again, the light is still red, so she unlocks her phone to bring up Pandora. Niall’s face stares up at her from the screen, and she nearly drops her phone in surprise. He said he was a golfer, nothing about being a musician. Someone honks behind her; her head jerks up to see the light has changed, and she waves shakily at the driver and presses on the accelerator.

Derek cocks his head in confusion when Emilie enters the coffeeshop, and she drops into a chair by the drinks cooler. He finishes up making the coffee for the customer waiting at the counter then, once the drink is passed off, comes to sit in the empty seat across from Emilie. Without a word, she hands him her phone. He frowns but obediently turns his gaze to the screen. She watches his face closely, sees the instant he comes to the same realisation she did. His jaw drops, and he stares at her with wide eyes.

“_No_.”

She nods and runs a hand through her hair. “What am I supposed to do with this information, D? I mean, it was awkward enough talking to him when he was just a golf dude. Now this?”

“Okay, first off, how often have you talked to him? Actually, wait, I don’t need to ask you, why am I asking you,” he mutters as he taps at the screen. “Holy shit, you told him about Ry, like, right off the bat? And damn, this is a lot of texts. Do you two text every day?”

“Yeah, sometimes…”

“What are you not telling me?”

“He, uh, he came over to hang out. That Saturday after I met him.”

“Didn’t - he _met_ Ryder, too?”

Emilie sighs, wrings her hands together. “Derek. Focus. What am I gonna do?”

“Keep being his friend, I guess. There’s obviously a connection there, and since he’s who he is, I don’t think he really gets to be friends with people without his status being brought up. Besides, what could it hurt to have another friend. You don’t have nearly enough of those.”

“I have you and Monica,” she protests, though it isn’t effective; in fact, it makes it worse, and she grimaces.

“And now him. Look, Em, it’s up to you, but I highly suggest you don’t come out and tell him you know.” Derek shrugs and pats her hand gently as the bell over the door chimes. “And Emmy? Don’t sabotage this friendship just because of this.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I know you. I love you, but I know you.”

Emilie knows he’s right - she’s always done what she could to protect herself from any sort of pain, and this… whatever this is that she has with Niall is ambiguous enough that the fact she can’t put a name on it is promising future hurt if she isn’t careful. She watches her best friend walk away then pushes to her feet. Her heart is racing beneath her ribs, her hands trembling, and caffeine is only going to make it worse. Derek calls after her, but she ignores him, walks out of the building.

The running paths are mostly devoid of others, everyone busy with other responsibilities at nine-thirty on a Wednesday morning, and Emilie makes sure the laces of her tennis shoes are tied securely, shoves her bag under the driver’s seat, and locks the car doors behind her. Her keys press against her breast where she has them hooked to her bra strap and stuffed into the cup - the only place she could think of to keep them from getting lost. She hesitates then opens Pandora, puts her earbuds into her ears, and slides her phone into the strap around her arm. The song, left there from when she paused it to show Derek, immediately starts playing, and she debates whether she should skip it or not. It feels weird to enjoy it now that she knows who sings it and that he deliberately kept that knowledge from her. Emilie ties her hair back into a ponytail, forces herself to admit that Derek maybe had a point about Niall wanting a friendship that doesn’t revolve around his fame.

Muscles aching, protesting the pace she’s set after months of not going for regular jogs, Emilie slows to a stop in the middle of the walking bridge and leans against the high railing. Her lungs burn as she pants, but she smiles into the pain. Sure, it’s a bit ridiculous that she’s already struggling after only forty-five minutes, but she’s proud of herself for getting this far before needing a break. She stares down at the river that flows beneath her, the various boats on the water. Something she will always love about Austin is how the city bustles with life but not just humans - everywhere she looks is something green. Her phone vibrates against her arm; she manages to ask Siri to relay the message through gasping breaths, wincing when the AI rattles off five texts from Niall. Telling Siri to respond with _Can I call you in a few?_, Emilie makes sure Pandora begins playing again then turns toward the direction of the car, lets her feet pound against the pavement as she pushes herself to her limits.

“Hey, I was beginning to think you forgot about me,” Niall says lightly when he answers her call before letting out a quiet laugh.

Emilie rolls her eyes and puts the call on speaker so she can brush her shower-damp hair. “Sorry, sorry. I went for a run and kinda lost track of time. So what’s up?”

“I, er, have some free time coming up this next week, and I was wondering if you’d mind if I come visit again?”

“Why would I mind?” she asks, staring at her phone with a frown. “Niall, you’re always welcome here.”

“We don’t really know each other that well, so…”

“We’ve been talking for a month. I think I can trust you enough to not, like, murder me or something.”

“Why does your mind _always_ go to murder?”

“I watch too much _Criminal Minds_, mostly. But nah, for real. Feel free to come by whenever. All I ask is that you at least let me know beforehand.”

He hums quietly, and Emilie sets the hairbrush on her dresser and tugs a tank0top on. The silence between them stretches on, but it’s comfortable. Once she’s pulled her yoga pants up her legs, she grabs her phone and heads out to the kitchen. Emilie listens attentively as Niall talks about his plans for the next few days - consciously leaving out anything to do with music, she supposes. She pours herself a glass of juice then settles in on the couch. She wonders if it’ll ruin the easy friendship between them if she mentions it.

“Are you listening?”

Emilie startles back to attention. She’s zoned out, gotten lost in her thoughts. Clearing her throat, she assures him she’s still here and does her best to focus. Niall waits for her to speak; the quiet is awkward now, and she sighs.

“Sorry. I just… yeah.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Em?”

_Em?_, she thinks but doesn’t say anything about the nickname. Instead, she shakes her head, though he can’t see it, and coughs quietly. “Just thinking about a song I heard earlier. It’s kinda stuck in my head now.”

“Oh? What song?”

“I, uh, I don’t remember the name of it,” and god, the lie comes easier than it should, “but it sounds like -”

She hums the beat of the chorus, and when she stops, there’s a deafening silence on the line, and her skin crawls with the nervousness. She pulls the phone away from her ear to check that he hasn’t hung up, but seeing that the call is still connected only sends a wave of fear through her. Emilie bites her lip, picks at a stray thread on the hem of her pants. She closes her eyes when Niall’s sigh crackles in her ear.

“_Seeing Blind_. Guess you know now.”

“I know what? All I know is it’s a good song, catchy as fuck.”

“Emilie -”

“What? Look, Niall, you’re still you. You’re still the guy who was brave enough to interrupt a stranger just so you’d be able to sit down in a crowded coffeeshop. You’re still the guy who came over to hang out and entertained a sixteen-month-old toddler and cleaned up my apartment even though it wasn’t your responsibility. So you sing, too. Doesn’t change the fact that the guy I know is a pretty cool dude that I’ve enjoyed getting to know over the last month.”

“I like getting to know you, too,” he murmurs after a long minute, and Emilie’s cheeks burn as she smiles. “Thanks, Emilie.”

“You can thank me by not making this weird.”

“I’ll try. But… I guess since you already know, I should probably tell you. You know that boyband One Direction?”

She shrugs, sipping at her juice. “I mean, I’ve heard of ‘em. Never listened to it. Wasn’t my cup of tea, I didn’t think.” A thought hits her, and she sets her glass down on the coffee-table with a loud thunk. “You were not.”

“I was.”

“No. Way.”

“Why are you finding this so hard to believe?” he asks, and thank heavens he’s laughing, clear and real.

Her heart squeezes in her chest at the sound, and she shifts to lie down on the couch, presses her phone more securely against her ear, and asks Niall to tell her more about himself. There isn’t much that she actually knows, minus his personality, he golfs, and the fact his friend from Ireland lives with him. And now, she knows he’s a musician. Thankfully, he obliges, and Emilie settles in to listen.


	5. five.

Emilie steps out of the car, her skin feeling even stickier in the dampness of the air. The clouds have begun to roll in, threaten rain, and she is thankful that she got her run in before the storms start. She slides a hand over her sweat-soaked hair and presses the lock button her key-fob. Her car beeps twice behind her as she heads toward the door. Shivering slightly in the cold air of the indoors, she crosses her arms over her chest and makes her way around the myriad of turns until she reaches her door.

“What the Hell.”

Niall looks up from his phone, smiling brightly. “Hi.”

“I… What are you doing?”

“Mostly scrolling through Instagram.” He pauses and frowns. “Did I not tell you I was here?”

“I don’t think so,” she says slowly, pulling her phone from her purse.

There aren’t any text messages waiting to be read, and she shows him the screen of her phone. His lips pull down further as he taps at his screen. When he looks up again, his face is twisted in contrition.

“I never pressed send.”

She stifles her laugh, gestures for him to move, and unlocks the door. He follows her inside, locking the door behind them. Her throat tightens in realisation, but she doesn’t tell him it isn’t necessary now that Ryder isn’t here. She hesitates outside her bedroom door then turns to face him.

“Okay, so. I’m gross and in desperate need of a shower. Um, there’s a remote to the TV somewhere, so if you wanna watch a show or something, feel free, but I’m sorry about the hunting you’ll have to do.”

“It’s okay, love. I have Netflix on my phone.”

“All right. Well, I’ll be right back.”

She ducks into her room and rushes to grab clean clothes. It isn’t until Emilie catches her reflection in the bathroom mirror that she remembers she is wearing a sports bra and leggings; her skin is still a mottled red from exertion and heat, and she grimaces at the state of her hair. She yanks the hair-tie from the ponytail, shaking her hair loose, as she leans over and starts up the shower.

She hurries through the process of scrubbing her body and washing her hair, and fifteen minutes later, she steps out into the living room freshly-cleaned and dressed in a pair of leggings and an oversized T-shirt bearing the logo for the Eagles. Niall pauses whatever show he’s watching on his phone, sets the device aside, and Emilie flops onto the couch with a heavy sigh. She’s gone for a jog every morning since that first day, when she found out who Niall really is, and while it has gotten easier to go further for longer, her body still hasn’t become accustomed to the strain.

“Tired?”

She nods, resting her head against the back of the couch. “Yeah. Couldn’t get to sleep last night, tossed and turned all night, and decided to go for a run this morning because I’m a dumbass who likes to make my exhaustion even worse.”

“I can leave if you wanna nap.”

“Nah, I’m okay. If I nap now, I won’t sleep tonight, and it’d be a problem.”

“I’m surprised Ryder isn’t here,” he comments lightly after a moment of silence, and Emilie sighs against the twinge of pain in her chest.

“Danielle said she wanted to keep him this weekend which is code for she’s using it as an excuse to punish me.”

His face screws up in confusion, his head cocking to the side. “For what?”

“I made a comment about how I was running low on diapers and asked if she could drop some off with her this weekend, and she took it as me judging her for not ‘being on top of things’, I guess.” Emilie shrugs, scratches idly at her thigh. “It’s stupid as fuck, but if I tell her that, then it means I don’t get to see Ryder for even longer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is what it is. He’s worth having to bite my tongue all the time.”

Emilie can’t handle the worried expression on his face, the way he chews at his lower lip as he stares at her, so she hurriedly changes the subject. Now that she knows that he’s a musician, he talks to her about touring, his music, and - of course - his golfing. She adores the way he lights up as he speaks; the love he has for what he does is endearing, makes her wonder if she’ll ever be that happy about doing something other than raising her godson.

They don’t do much beyond binge-watch _The Twilight Zone_ for the next couple of hours; Emilie dozes off and on, and Niall stays quiet whenever he notices that she’s not completely awake. It’s peaceful, but Emilie finds herself wishing that her former stepsister hadn’t decided to use Ryder as a tool against her. The hurt of missing him isn’t nearly as overwhelming as it would have been, she thinks, than if Niall wasn’t mere feet away from her. And that alone worries her. He shouldn’t be such a calming presence after only a month of texting and two in-person conversations.

Niall proves to be helpful in the kitchen; he dices red bell peppers efficiently while Emilie cooks chicken and mixes up the honey-soy sauce. As she sautes the peppers with the meat, he sets about making rice. She points to the cupboard with the bowls, and he nods, presses a hand to her waist as he passes behind her. She suppresses a shiver at the warmth of his touch and focuses on not burning herself on the hot pan.

“I need this recipe,” he all but moans, setting his bowl on the coffee-table, and Emilie bites back a smile.

“You literally helped me make it.”

“Well, write it down anyway, because that was delicious.”

“I’ll text it to you,” she promises before scooping the last bite of her dinner into her mouth.

They clean up the mess from cooking together, and the silence that wraps around them is a comfortable one. She puts away the dishes while he wraps up the leftovers, finds a place for them in the refrigerator. When he turns around, he has the bottle of wine in hand and a brow raised in question. Emilie debates whether it’s a wine kind of night then promptly decides every night is a wine kind of night. She nods, reaching for the glasses and the corkscrew, and Niall carries the bottle to the living room.

Emilie pours another glass of wine, grimacing when she catches sight of how much is left. It’s the second bottle they’ve opened in the last hour, and she knows her words are starting to slur around the edges. Niall laughs at her pout, and she sticks her tongue out at him. They haven’t talked in a while, their laughter and chatting falling silent as they sipped at their wine. She watches as Niall digs his phone from his pocket, types something; there’s a heavy tug deep in her gut as she stares at him, the stubble that covers the sharp curve of his jaw, the vivid blue of his eyes, the downward tilt to his lips. She knows it’s a mixture of alcohol and the fact that she hasn’t been in any kind of physical relationship since before Ryder was born, but her body is definitely reacting to what she sees in front of her. With a frown, she glares down at her lap.

“Fucking useless, shut up.”

Niall’s head snaps up, and his brows draw together in confusion. “Did… did you just call your -” he gestures at her crotch “- fucking useless and tell it to shut up?”

“I did, yes.”

“Er, why?”

“Because.” She shrugs and takes another drink of her moscato. “It _is_ fucking useless.”

“I…”

She shows some mercy and waves a hand vaguely, cutting off his attempt to form words. “It’s nothing, don’t worry.”

“No, you’ve got me curious now, you can’t just leave it at that.”

“I can and am,” she replies with a smug grin, and he rolls his eyes; the smile that tugs at his lips is unmistakable, though, so she counts it as a win.

Emilie isn’t surprised to see it’s past eleven when she looks at her phone, nor is Niall’s hesitant question about sleeping on the couch unexpected. It’s late, and they’ve both had quite a bit to drink; even though wine rarely gets her drunk, it still affects her, and she isn’t quite sure about his tolerance to liquor of any kind. She assures him his staying over isn’t a problem then heads to the laundry closet, tugging down the spare pillow and blanket that she keeps there for whenever Derek stays the night. Setting them on the end of the couch, Emilie grabs her glass and swallows down the last mouthful of wine in her glass, reaches for his once his is drained. He passes it over, and a shiver races down her spine as their fingers brush.

Looking back, Emilie won’t be able to say who moved first, or if perhaps they both moved at the same time. All she knows is one second, she is on her feet, staring down at those ridiculously blue eyes, then the next, she’s straddling his lap. _He’s an amazing kisser_, her brain supplies, and she nearly giggles. Her lips part, her tongue brushes his lower lip, and he obliges. He tastes of wine and the slight salty bite of soy sauce. She trembles as his hands come up to rest on her waist, holding her there even as his tongue explores her mouth.

“Wait, wait, wait,” she murmurs into the kiss, her brain reminding her that she’s still holding the wine glasses, her arms held out to the side at an awkward angle. She pulls back, stretches to put them on the coffee-table, then faces Niall again. “Okay, we’re good.”

She breathes in his huff of laughter, swallows it down as she seals their mouths together again, and he wraps his arms around her, pulling her closer. His heartbeat thunders under her palms as she slides her hands over his chest; he groans low in his throat when her fingernails press into his skin, her hips pushing down against him. Her skin is tight, goosebumps racing along her flesh, and she feels like bursting apart with the sensations.

“Do, do you have anything?” he whispers when they part, breathing heavily, and she bites her lip.

“I- I don’t. Fuck. But, uh, I’m on birth control, and I just got tested, like, two months ago, and I’m clean. God, don’t stop,” she whimpers, gasps as his teeth scrape against her throat.

He chuckles into her skin. “I don’t want to, believe me.”

“Then let’s not.”

He hesitates and pulls back, and Emilie stifles a sigh. She grabs his hand, presses it against the inside of her bicep where the birth control rod rests, and mumbles “_implant_” at his confused look. His nod is shaky, but whether it’s nerves or something else, she isn’t sure. She doesn’t get the chance to question it - he captures her mouth with his, and she’s lost instantly in the taste and feel of him. His hands tremble as he pushes her shirt up and over her head, and his gaze rakes over her bare skin. Emilie is oddly thankful for not having worn a bra after her shower, the weight of his want evident in his eyes and sending flickers of desire up her spine.

Somehow, they manage to strip without any major incidents, though she does come close to falling off his lap as he pushes his joggers to his feet. As she lies back on the couch, she lets her eyes wander, staring at the expanse of skin that she can see. Her fingers bury into the curls on his chest; he ducks down to kiss her, and she lets go of any and all control she may have, lets herself get lost in the stretch and burn and waves of pleasure.

Niall collapses next to her, and she giggles manically as he throws an arm over her waist, presses his face into her neck. He blows out an unsteady breath. “Fuck.”

“Mm, no, I think we just did that.”

Emilie closes her eyes and sighs blissfully; it’s been so long since she’s had this kind of closeness with another person, and something in her loosens with the intimacy. Her heartbeat slowly steadies, and she shivers as his fingertips drag over her collarbone in a feather-light touch. He presses his lips to her shoulder, pulls back enough to lift himself on one elbow. She smiles up at him.

“That was fantastic,” he murmurs softly, and though it’s too close to tenderness, the words causes a warmth to burst into life under her skin.

“It really, really was.” She pauses, her thoughts jumbling in their attempts to be voiced. Eventually, what comes out is, “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“So would I.”

Emilie pushes herself to sit up. She feels far more naked now, on display, as she struggles to find the right words to explain. Niall strokes a finger along her spine, but he doesn’t push her to talk, he just waits patiently. “But... I, I don’t think I can handle a relationship right now. Between school and Ry, adding a relationship, especially one where we’re in two completely separate cities, it just doesn’t seem feasible.”

“I understand. I really do.”

“But, if you’re okay with a casual kind of thing - friends with benefits, if you will - I’m pretty sure I could work with that.”

It’s meant as a joke, honestly, so Emilie is caught by surprise by how readily he agrees to it. He seems serious about it, too; there is no humour on his face as he assures her it’s something he wants, too. Any protests she may have are muffled when he kisses her again, stealing the breath from her lungs, and she decides to go with it. Her arms snake around his torso as he covers her body with his.


	6. six.

Emilie tugs the band from the end of her braid, untwists her dark hair from the plait it’s been in since she woke up this morning, and shakes her head to get rid of the last bit of tangles. Her lungs still burn, just a bit, from her run, but she feels light, weightless. Endorphins buzz through her veins, and she can’t help smiling at the group sitting at the table outside as she makes her way to the door.

Monica must be in charge of the music today, since George Jones is singing about the furniture in his house and the memories he has with the woman who’s left him. Emilie grins to herself, joins the queue of people waiting for coffee. It takes almost ten minutes to reach the counter - the person two ahead of Emilie seemed to struggle with making the choice between apple or cherry danishes, which, to be fair, is an impossible choice, they’re both so delicious. Monica is already ringing up Emilie’s order by the time the woman in question steps up.

“So, any news on the cutie?”

“Derek has a big mouth,” Emilie replies even as she nods. “Yeah, we hung out a couple days ago.”

“Aw, and you didn’t bring him by? Emma-bean, I wanted to meet the cutie!”

Emilie shrugs, biting her lower lip while she steps aside for the next customer. “We mostly just hung out at my place, watched some _Twilight Zone_, that kinda stuff.”

Monica gives her a sharp look, and Emilie forces herself not to squirm under the scrutiny. It’s none of her friend’s business what she and Niall got up to; besides, that’s something that Emilie wants to keep to herself, to relish the memories of without others’ opinions. She flashes a wide, innocent smile and goes to sit down at a table while Monica continues taking orders and the new barista, whose name Emilie still doesn’t know, makes the drinks as fast as he can.

Eventually, he hands Emilie her drink with a wide but frazzled smile, and she makes sure to stop by the counter, stuffing in a ten-dollar bill into the jar by the register. Monica tries to call after her, to stop her from leaving, but Emilie breezes out the door without a second look. She has plans for the day, plans that don’t involve spending hours in the coffeeshop.

“Hey there, little dude, you ready for the long weekend with your favourite auntie?”

Ryder screeches, clapping his chubby little hands together, and Emilie doesn’t miss the wince on Danielle’s face. Of course the woman is hungover, never mind the fact that if something had happened to her son at any point, she would’ve been too drunk to do a damn thing. But Emilie bites her tongue; she meant what she said to Niall - Ryder is worth keeping all the comments to herself. She’d much rather cut her tongue out of her own mouth than risk losing Ry. So she focuses on gathering up a clean outfit and packing the diaper bag; her former stepsister isn’t much help, halfheartedly holding clothes out to Emilie only to let them drop to the floor a second later. Danielle shuffles down the short hall, and the click of her door closing is barely heard over the sound of Ryder’s chattering.

Emilie frowns but tries not to let her frustration show as she changes Ryder’s dirty diaper. He struggles against it, and she doesn’t blame him. Obviously, his mother hasn’t been doing her duties, judging by the pinkness starting up around his thighs and genitals. Dressing him in a pair of navy overalls and striped shirt goes much more smoothly, and they’re walking out of the house twenty minutes later. Emilie tosses the diaper bag into the passenger seat then rounds the vehicle to buckle him into his carseat. He grins up at her, his blue eyes bright in his happiness, and the stress and negativity that’s consumed Emilie fades into nothingness. She leans down to press a gentle kiss to his feather-soft hair and steps out of the way to close the door.

“Hey, there’s my girl.”

Emilie loses the fight against the smile that threatens to break free, and she hitches Ryder up further into her arms. “Hey, Dad. Sorry it took so long. The coffeeshop was ridiculously busy this morning.”

“No worries, Emmy. Here, let me take him. Hi, bugger, how are ya today?”

Emilie passes Ryder over to her father and sits at the table. Jackson’s attention is solely on the toddler in his arms, so she lets herself look her father over. They haven’t seen each other in a couple of months, and though they talk on the phone regularly, his assurances that he’s fine haven’t been very convincing. She knows the divorce has been hard on him; he had been married to Paige since Emilie was eight, and sixteen years can’t be easy to walk away from. The silver lining, at least in Emilie’s selfishness, is that Paige isn’t willing to walk away from the stepdaughter she helped raise.

Finding out about her parents’ plans to separate when she was six wasn’t as traumatising as it could have been - they’d sat her down, explained it in terms she could understand, and treated each other well in front of her so she never felt like she was being forced to choose. They split their time with her evenly, and even when it wasn’t Jackson’s time to visit, he was there if she asked for him. Rose had accepted his relationship with Paige with a grace that Emilie now only wishes she could have; she knows she wouldn’t react nearly that well if her ex-husband met someone new within a year of the divorce being finalised. The family dynamic had changed over the span of two and a half years, but somehow, all three of her parents made it as seamless and smooth as possible.

“You’re staring,” Jackson comments lightly as he lets Ryder tear up the kids’ colouring page. Emilie ducks her head in embarrassment at being caught, and her dad laughs. “I’m fine, kid, I promise.”

“I know you’ve said you are, but… Dad, I worry about you. Is that so wrong?”

“It is if it means you’re doubting your old man.”

“Well, I’m very aware of how stubborn you are, so forgive me for doubting that you’ll tell me if you’re not okay.”

“_I’m_ stubborn? Have you met yourself recently?”

“I’m not stubborn!”

His flat look causes her to dissolve into giggles, and she concedes the point. The server comes by after a few minutes, bright and bubbly; Jackson gestures for Emilie to order first, so she skims over the menu, even though she knows what she’s going to get - the chicken Bryan is to die for here, and it’s the only thing she ever eats. Her father, as per usual, asks for steak. Growing up in rural Texas made him a firm steak-and-taters kind of guy, and it hasn’t changed, no matter the fact he’s gone from blue collar to white. As they wait for their meals to come, they entertain Ryder and talk about the changes in their lives since the last time they talked on the phone. Emilie has no idea of the people he tells her about, but as long as her dad is smiling and happy, she doesn’t question it. He lifts his coffee cup to his mouth but pauses, staring at her over the rim.

“Anything goin’ on in your life?”

She shifts awkwardly in her seat, taps the tongs of her fork against the tabletop. “I made a new friend.”

“About damn time. Was beginning to wonder if you were on the path to becoming a hermit with how little you talk about friends.”

“I tell you about Derek and Monica all the time.”

“And no one else.” Jackson sighs. “Emilie, I don’t give a damn if you wanna spend the rest of your life in some opium den, sleeping with the goddamn Dalai Lama to get your fix -”

“Gross, Dad. Gross.”

“My point is, I just want you to be happy, and honestly? You seem lonely. Yes, you spend time with Derek and occasionally Monica, but most of your time is with Ryder or in class.”

“I’m okay.”

“Tell me more about this friend,” he says as the server sets his plate on the table, but it sounds more like an iron-clad demand to Emilie.

“Well, he’s nice, really funny. We met in the coffeeshop - don’t roll your eyes at me, that’s rude. He needed a place to sit, so he interrupted me doing homework, and we just… got to talking.” Emilie shrugs, turning her face to the table so her father can’t see the burning of her cheeks. Thinking about Niall still sends tingles up her spine, and the fact that they’re not in a relationship matters very little to the fluttering in her chest. “I think you’d like him. He’s kinda snarky, and he’s a good cook.”

Jackson’s gaze instantly goes to his daughter’s face at her words, and he slowly sets his knife and fork on his plate. “He stayed for dinner?”

“Yeah, he came over to hang out, and we lost track of time. C’mon, Dad, don’t make a big deal out of this. Niall is a friend.”

“Ni-Ni?”

Both Emilie and Jackson whip their heads around to stare at Ryder who is shovelling a spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth. Emilie’s eyes fall closed when her dad looks at her pointedly.

“Ryder met him?”

“Yep.”

Thankfully, he lets the subject drop, but she knows it’s a long way from over. The rest of the lunch passes by with less discomfort on Emilie’s part, though she keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. Her dad pays the bill, because of course he does; Emilie would feel bad about the fifty dollars he’s dropping for lunch if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been paying her rent and utilities since she started school. It had been his way of easing any unnecessary stresses. He said she was already going to have to juggle schooling with raising a child, why should she have to worry about a job on top of all that? Emilie is well aware of how lucky she is. Her dad carries Ryder out to her car against her protests. After buckling the straps of the carseat, Jackson stands upright and faces Emilie.

“I meant what I said, Em. I want you to be happy, and if this Niall guy makes you happy…”

“Dad. He’s just. A. Friend.”

“Mmhmm. Okay, if you say so. I have a meeting soon, so I better go. Love you, kid.”

Emilie hugs her father tightly, her eyes squeezing shut with the contact. She whispers that she loves her father, too, before letting go. He walks away to his rental car while Emilie slides into the driver’s seat of her Explorer, adjusting the volume of the radio when _Stop Dragging My Heart Around_ starts up rather loudly as soon as she turns the key in the ignition. Her dad waves as he drives past where she’s parked, and Emilie sighs to herself. She knows he’s going to have a lot of questions, ones she’s not sure she can answer.

Eyes still closed, Emilie stumbles toward the front door, cursing loudly when she stubs her toes against the wall. She yawns and rubs at her eyes as she pulls the door open. Niall smiles apologetically, kisses her forehead as he passes.

“I know it’s ridiculously early, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. Ry’ll be waking up soon anyway.”

“He’s here?”

“Mhm. Danielle is on overnights for the next couple of days.”

Her prediction comes true not even a few seconds later; Ryder’s small voice calling out _An’ Em_? echoes in the quiet of the apartment, then he appears in her doorway. She opens her arms, scoops him up once he’s close enough. He rests his head on her shoulder and stares at Niall with wide eyes. She doesn’t blame the kid, though she’s sure her staring is for a completely different reason. She clears her throat, abruptly turns on her heel, and heads to the fridge to grab Ryder’s cup of juice from the fridge.

“What brings you by?” she asks over her shoulder as she digs through the cupboards for the box of oatmeal she knows is hiding from her.

“I, well, I just wanted to see Ryder.”

“Oh, it’s all about Ry, ain’t it. You hear that, dude? You’re a hot commodity!”

Ryder blinks up at her, and Emilie shakes her head in amusement. Once she has a packet in her hand, she sets Ryder into his high-chair and sets about mixing the oatmeal with some milk, popping it into the microwave to let it cook. Niall perches on a stool and watches her move around; her skin burns with the scrutiny, but she ignores it. If she focuses hard enough on peeling and slicing up an apple, she can pretend that there isn’t an undercurrent of want coursing through her veins.

The last couple of weeks have been… wonderful. Between acing her classes, the break from school, and spending time with Ryder and Derek, she hasn’t had anything to drag her down from the happiness. And it all was compounded, made better, by the constant text messages and FaceTime calls with Niall. He hadn’t been able to come visit, but that hadn’t seemed to interrupt whatever they have. Though it feels closer to a relationship than a friends-with-benefits kind of thing, Emilie can’t find it in her to put a stop to it. She can feel blood rushing to her cheeks when her brain dredges up the pictures they’ve sent back and forth to each other, none of them anywhere near the “safe for work” category.

Ryder is sufficiently distracted by food within the minute, so Emilie disappears into the bathroom. She uses the toilet, washes her hands, and brushes her teeth quickly. Once that’s done, she stares at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark eyes are bright, shining, and she can’t stop the smile that twitches at her lips. A squeak escapes when she opens the door to be met, face-to-face, with Niall. She doesn’t get the chance to question the sharp edge to his smile before he’s stepping into the bathroom and pinning her body between the counter and his.

He tastes like coffee on her tongue, and her arms come up to wrap around his without hesitation, pulling him closer. The edge of the counter digs into her lower back, sends ripples of pain up her spine, but she doesn’t care. She just chases the heady feeling that consumes her. He pulls away much too soon for her liking, and she pouts up at him even as she struggles to catch her breath. He grins innocently and pushes a lock of hair from her face.

“Good morning, love.”

“You are so making this up to me,” she mutters while he walks away.

Thankfully, the hours pass quickly with Niall here. Emilie has found that being with him is easy, far easier than it has any right to be. It certainly helps that his kisses, even the quick ones, are intoxicating and comforting in a way. The feelings she’s developed have only grown stronger since the beginning; it isn’t quite unexpected, since he’s such an amazing guy, he makes her laugh so easily, and - not most importantly, but still important - she wants him physically more than she’s wanted anyone else.

Ryder goes down for his nap without a fuss, worn out from the early rising and playing, and Emilie drops gracelessly to the couch once the child is asleep. Niall instantly opens his arms to her. She shifts closer, lifts her head. He obliges, kissing her with no hesitation, and she falls headfirst into the dizzying spin of emotions. She wiggles around until she has room to drag her fingers across his abdomen. He gasps into her mouth when her hand slips below the waistband of his joggers, his underwear, and his hips jerk upwards. Emilie chuckles softly, swallows down his moan. His head falls back against the couch with a quiet thump, and she takes this chance to watch his face, the fluttering of his lashes against his cheekbones, the ticking in his jaw as he pants. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and she leans forward, nipping at the tendon in his neck, and relishes the way his pulse races under her mouth.

“You’re beautiful like this,” she whispers into his ear, and that’s all it takes - his release spills over her loose fist, and she works him through it, ignoring the way her brain tells her that whatever she’s feeling is too much, too close to love.


	7. seven.

A knock at the door cuts through the quiet chatter, and Emilie checks the time on her phone. It’s quarter after ten, at least an hour after Danielle usually drops Ryder off for a last-minute babysitter and definitely too late for anybody to just drop by. She sets her pen down, excuses herself from the group, and makes her way to the door. Brian calls out a request for her to bring him another bottle of water on her way back through. She ignores him in favour of peeking through the peephole. Her eyebrows draw together when she sees the familiar face.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asks as she pulls open the door. “Didn’t even know you were still in town.”

Niall smiles and takes a wobbly step forward, stumbling then leaning against the doorframe. He waves off her efforts to help him stand. “Sorry, I’m okay. Jus’… just’ a little off my face, ‘s’all.”

Emilie looks over her shoulder, but her friends are still talking amongst themselves in the other room. With a sigh, she turns to Niall and steps back. He walks unsteadily into the apartment; her hands immediately come up to steady him, and she guides him down the short hall, through the bathroom, and into her bedroom. He lets her push him to sit on the bed, and she stares down at him. She’s known he likes to drink occasionally, but he has never come to her apartment already drunk, and never to this point. Even when they’d share a bottle of wine, he always stopped before he got further than tipsy. She isn’t sure how she feels about his surprise appearance tonight.

Unfortunately, she doesn’t have time to dwell on it, not with the way he sways just sitting at the end of the mattress. Emilie helps him to lie down and sighs before leaning down to untie and slip off his shoes. They thump against the wall when she tosses them behind her, and by the time she stands upright, Niall’s eyes are closed, and she wonders if he’s fallen asleep. Her worries are proven unfounded, though, when he peels his eyes open and grins sloppily up at her.

“Stay here,” she orders firmly, and his nod is off-kilter; she groans and leaves the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind her. “Hey, guys, hate to do this, but we gotta break for the night.”

“Everything okay?” Lisa asks.

“Yeah, everything’s… everything’s fine. Just, something’s come up. So we can meet up at Brian’s or something tomorrow if you still wanna hang out.”

Brian smiles, slaps his hands against his knees. “All right. Hope things go okay.”

She walks her friends to the front door, smiling as reassuringly as she can while they put their shoes on and head out. Eventually, they’re gone, and Emilie shuts the door and sighs. She slides the locks into place, turns off the lights in the hallway and living room, and makes her way to the bathroom. After brushing her teeth and washing her face, she exhales deeply, heading to the bedroom.

Niall is still awake when she enters, and his bleary eyes find her almost immediately. Emilie walks carefully to her dresser in the dark, strips off her shirt on the way. She hears a strangled noise from behind her, but she ignores it and focuses on changing into a pair of shorts and a tank-top. Niall’s lips are pulled down into a pout when she turns toward him; she pulls back the blankets on the bed, slips between the sheets. She listens as Niall stumbles through the room to the bathroom.

“Who were they?” he whispers once he’s in bed next to her, and she sighs, letting him scoot closer with an arm over her waist.

“My study group. We became friends during studying for exams, and it became a weekly ritual for them to come over and hang out.”

“Mm.”

“Niall?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you drunk?”

“I just… I don’t really wanna talk about it righ’ now.”

Emilie fights against the urge to roll her eyes and reluctantly lets it go. She lets the warmth of Niall only an inch or two away lull her to sleep, no matter how frustrated she is to smell alcohol the entire time. Drunk or not, sleeping next to Niall has been comforting since the beginning, and she’s not going to refuse it now.

She wakes long before Niall does, opening her eyes to a room full of natural light. Emilie rolls over to face the still-sleeping man, smiles at how lax his entire body is in his slumber. Her gaze rakes across the expanse of bare skin, and she marvels at how utterly gorgeous he is. The sunlight catches on the dips and edges of his shoulders, the divots in his spine toward his lower back, the tiny fine hairs along his flesh. She grabs her phone, swipes across the screen to bring up her camera, and positions herself down by his knee. It takes some finagling and struggling to not wake him, but eventually, she gets the shot lined up. His face is mostly obscured in shadows, the barest hint of light at the ends of his hair and nose, and she snaps the photo, immediately bringing it back up to examine the image. Once satisfied with it, she locks her phone and crawls gingerly out of the bed.

The kettle finishes boiling, and the lever snaps upwards with a click. Emilie drops the teabag into her mug, pours the water over it, and sets the cup aside so it can steep. There isn’t much in the fridge - she’s meant to go grocery shopping for a few days now - but the egg carton isn’t quite empty yet, so she grabs it from the shelf.

Plate of scrambled eggs and cup of tea in hand, Emilie crosses the living room to the doors that lead to her balcony. No one else is moving around outside when she steps outside; she sets her breakfast down on the small table, closes the door behind her. She eats quickly, not wanting to end up with rubbery eggs, then settles into the patio chair to relax. Her sleep last night had been uninterrupted, and she’s grateful for that. It’s Friday now, which means Danielle will be dropping Ryder off this evening, and Emilie is going to need all the rest she can get before dealing with the little monster and all his infinite energy.

She finishes off her tea forty-five minutes later, and she heads back inside. Shivering in the sudden coolness, she crosses the room to the thermostat and turns it up; the air conditioner stops with a quiet sigh. Grabbing the blanket off the back of the couch, Emilie collapses onto the cushion and stretches out. She keeps the television volume on low as she settles in to watch some old reruns of _Three’s Company_.

There is no warning when Niall flops down, shoving himself into her side, and he breathes out deeply once he has his head on her shoulder. Emilie smiles and wraps her arms around him, holds him close. His hair is soft between her fingers; warm puffs of breath skates across her collarbone, and goosebumps race up her flesh. Something in her chest tightens, something that tells her it isn't going to be pretty once this falls apart - and it will. Her heart wasn't supposed to get involved, this was meant to be a way of fulfilling needs without the risk of getting hurt. She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat. Oh, but it's going to hurt something fierce when he walks away.

Niall has nearly fallen back asleep by the time someone knocks on the door. He mumbles in protest as Emilie wiggles and shifts to get out from between him and the back of the couch. She giggles, slides her fingers through his hair, and heads to the door. A strange man stands on the other side when she looks through the peephole. Brows furrowed, she makes her way back to the man dozing on the sofa.

“Hey, were you expecting anyone this morning?”

“Pro’lly Bruce,” Niall mutters sleepily, letting out a wide yawn and stretching.

“Okay.” Emilie opens the door just a crack; the man hasn't moved at all. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah, lookin’ for Niall.”

“Can I have a name?”

“Bruce.”

She shuts the door, slides the chain out of place, then steps back to let Bruce in. He doesn't do more than nod before passing by her. She rolls her eyes and mutters _manners are important, Brucie_ under her breath as she locks the door again. Niall is no longer on the couch when she enters the living room, and she opens her mouth to ask where he's gone but is interrupted by the squeaking of the shower starting up. Bruce stands in the kitchen, leans against the countertop, and Emilie sighs.

“Want anything to drink? I have water, milk, coffee, tea, maybe some juice.”

“Uh, coffee is fine, thanks.”

She sets the kettle to boil, grabbing the French press and container of grounds from the cabinet. Bruce stays out of her way as she busies herself with scooping coffee into the press and pouring hot water in. After a few minutes of silence, she fills a mug and passes it over.

“Milk is in the fridge if you want it, jar of sugar behind you on the counter.”

Bruce turns and makes a strangled noise. “_Cocaine_?”

“I, uh, I was bored while moving in.” She shrugs as his laughter bursts out. “I usually keep the label facing the wall so my godson doesn't see it when he's older and ask ‘Hey, what's cocaine?’ It would be…awful.”

Bruce nods along, and Emilie rounds the counter to fold up the blanket, draping it over the back of the couch. Her phone buzzes on the table; she picks it up and sees a text from Derek asking if she's coming in today for coffee. She sends back a thumbs-down emoji and snorts at the crying face she gets in response. The silence is deafening, only broken by the sound of Niall showering. Bruce drinks his coffee in the kitchen, and Emilie sits back down on the couch. If the man isn't going to talk, then neither is she.

The bathroom door opens after thirty minutes of quiet, and she drags her gaze away from the television in time to see Niall exiting the bathroom, pulling a shirt over his head; she bites her lip at the sight of his muscles and so much bare skin, looks back at the TV before he can catch her staring. Judging by the soft chuckle Bruce lets out, her actions haven't gone unnoticed completely. Niall, thankfully, is blissfully unaware. He bends down and kisses her gently, the barest brush of his lips on hers.

“Sorry,” he whispers against her mouth, and she shivers as the scent of lemongrass and sage fills her nose.

“For what?”

“For having to go.”

Emilie shrugs, leans up to press their lips together more firmly. “It's okay, I understand. Lemme know when you get where you're going.”

“Absolutely.” He finally stands upright when Bruce clears his throat from the entryway. “Tell Ry I said hi and I'll miss him.”

When the door closes a few minutes and five goodbye kisses later, Emilie flops sideways onto the couch and groans loudly. Of course this would happen. It’s just her luck that somehow, someway - despite her best efforts - feelings would interject themselves into the situation and muck everything up. She grabs her phone and opens her photo gallery, staring at the picture she took this morning. Her heart thuds painfully in her chest, and she sighs, presses the home button. She doesn't let herself overthink it - she brings up the text thread with Niall and types out a message.

  
**Emilie:** I have a confession to make...  
  
**Niall:** ? What's that ?  
  
**Emilie:** I'm not any good at casual  
  
**Niall:** Do me a favour. Go look in your top left drawer.  


“Huh?” she mutters but does do as he says, confusion causing her thoughts to race.

There, nestled under the small pile of panties, is a long black box with a silver bow wrapped around it. She hesitates then carefully extricates it from the mass of fabric. A coppery taste fills her mouth when she bites down too hard on her lower lip; she ignores it to pull the lid off the box instead. Her fingers tremble, but she manages to pull the necklace from its place in the satin lining, the silver chain almost weightless in her grip. The pendant at the bottom catches the sunlight, shining brightly, and she smiles slightly at the teardrop-shaped gemstone - Ryder’s birthstone. Emilie heads back out to the living room, necklace in hand, and picks up her phone. Niall has sent three messages in the time she was away from her phone.

  
**Niall:** Do you like it ?  
**Niall:** Em ?  
**Niall:** Getting a little nervous here. . .   
  


She exhales heavily, steadily, and tries to force her heartrate to something more acceptable. There are no words to encompass everything she’s feeling. Her breath comes out in a shaky gust, and her heart hammers under her ribs as she responds.

  
**Emilie:** I love it. It's gorgeous. How did you know Ry's birthstone?  
  
**Niall:** I went through our texts until I found one that said his birthday  
**Niall:** I have a confession to make, too. It turns out I’m not good at casual, either.   
  
**Emilie:** Oh? So... where do we go from here?  
  
**Niall:** I don't know . I know I'd like for us to have a conversation about this and if it leads to more then great. If not then... okay.  
  
**Emilie:** Call me when you get there?  
**Emilie:** I definitely want to have this talk but not before you're about to get on a plane  
  
**Niall:** Okay. I'll call you when I land xxx  
  


Emilie sets the phone down then immediately picks it back up, fingers trembling as they tap rapidly on the screen. Derek’s reply comes quick, just a _K_ in response to her request for him to come over as soon as he can. Once she reads the message, she tosses the device aside and stares down at the chain in her hands. The opal shimmers, colours shifting under the sunlight, and she stroke a finger lightly over the stone. She sighs, pushes to her feet, and heads to her bedroom to put the necklace back in its box. She loves the thought behind it, but putting it on right now when things are still in limbo between her and Niall just seems like a terrible idea.


	8. eight.

Derek gapes at her when she finishes recounting everything, and Emilie squirms in her seat. Without a word, he stands and makes his way into her bedroom, and the drawer scrapes against its tracks as he pulls it open. He curses aloud; she twirls a lock of hair around her finger and waits for him to return. He does a few minutes later, the black box in his hand. His eyes are wide when he sits on the couch, and she stifles a giggle as he reaches for the glass on the table, drinking the rest of his wine in a couple short swallows.

“Em. I love you so much, you know this, but if you don’t jump on this dude, I will literally strangle you.”

“Derek…”

“No. I’m tired of seeing you making yourself miserable just to make yourself happy. I’ve been watching you over the last few months. You’ve smiled and laughed more than I have ever seen since I met you. You are genuinely happier than I can remember you being.”

“D, I… I think I could love him if I let myself.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

She shrugs awkwardly. “I… don’t know. He’s amazing. Fuck, Derek, he’s honestly perfect. And the fact that Ryder adores him already is an enormous bonus.”

“Look, Emma-bean, this is all your decision, but you obviously care a _lot_ about this guy, and he cares about you. Or else he wouldn’t have bought you a necklace like that. I just think you should give it a shot. Be happy, be in love.”

“I’ll consider it,” she murmurs after a long moment, and whatever Derek is about to say is interrupted by a knock on the door. Emilie checks the time on her phone. “Must be Danielle.”

It is, indeed, her former stepsister. The other woman sighs as soon as Emilie pulls open the door, pushes Ryder into Emilie’s arms. The toddler is a mess: Crusted-over remnants of food cover his cheeks and mat his hair, and Emilie frowns at the sight before lowering him until his feet are on the floor. She tells him to go to the living room and get a change ready; he toddles off contentedly, his fingers stuffed into his mouth. Danielle doesn’t bother waiting around once Emilie has a grip on the diaper bag, just turns on her heel and walks away. Emilie stares after her and wonders how long it will be before the woman wants her son back.

“There’s nothing clean in here,” Derek announces, sitting back on his heels with a sigh, and Emilie hefts the squirming child further into her arms and settles on her knees on the floor.

“Why am I not surprised. Okay, can you go grab something from my dresser, then? I’ll throw a load of laundry in once he’s in bed.”

She scrubs at Ryder’s body gently with the towel, and he grins at her before tugging the towel over his head. He screeches a _peeboo!_ when she pulls it down. A smile twists her lips. She can never keep hold of anger when he’s around. Derek emerges from the bedroom with Paw Patrol pyjamas in hand, and Emilie takes them, reaches for the diaper next to her. Ryder struggles against her laying him down, but she wins, as usual, and manages to get the diaper on without too much trouble.

Once he’s dressed, she sets him on the sofa with his purple lion and turns on a cartoon for him. Derek promises to watch him while she gathers up all the dirty laundry that Danielle sent. She has just dumped the clothes into the machine when her phone rings loudly from the kitchen counter, _Seeing Blind_ drowning out the sound of the cartoon on the television. She rushes to pick it up before Ryder gets frustrated at his show being interrupted, accepting the call quickly.

“Hey.”

There’s a pause, then Niall huffs out a laugh, commenting, “That was fast.”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to upset Ryder during his pre-bed ‘toons.”

“Oh, I forgot it was Friday.” He hums softly then yawns. “Hi, I made it home.”

“I’m glad to hear that. How was the flight?”

“Boring. I didn’t want to be on it, but I had no choice.”

“I’m sorry, sweets.”

“Do you have time to talk?”

The question is seemingly innocuous, but the tone he asks it in has a weight to it. Emilie sighs, shutting the lid to the washing machine and pressing the button to start the cycle, and turns to look at her best friend and godson sitting on the couch. She chews at the edge of her fingernail then gestures toward her door. Derek nods, brows furrowed, but she shakes her head and disappears into her bedroom, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Had to come into the other room so Derek and Ry don’t overhear.”

“Derek’s there?”

She frowns at the odd inflection in his voice, and something twists in her gut. “Uh, yeah, he came to hang out for a bit. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rushes to assure her, and she tries her best to believe him, no matter what her brain is telling her. “I guess I’m just tired.”

“Niall…”

“It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just, I know you and him are close, I’ve known that since we started talking.”

“But because you’re tired and hungover, it’s bothering you that he’s here. Especially since we haven’t talked about what you and I are.”

He chuckles. “Exactly.”

“Guess we should talk about it then.”

The silence between them stretches on uncomfortably, and Emilie fidgets as she tries to think of something to say. She isn’t surprised when Niall asks if they can switch to a FaceTime call; this is a conversation best held face-to-face, after all, so she swallows down the nerves and taps the button for a video chat.

In an instant, her heart quickens, pounds beneath her ribs, at the sight of his face. The azure of his eyes isn’t as crystal clear through the video, but she’s captivated by them anyway. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it repeatedly throughout the day, and the beginnings of dark circles have formed under his eyes. His lips quirk upwards into a small smile, and Emilie clears her throat and forces herself to stop staring. She turns her attention to the bedspread, picking at a stray thread, and draws in a steadying breath.

“I… I thought I wasn’t ready for a relationship. Not with basically raising a kid and going to school full-time. My life was already full, y’know?” She glances at the screen to see him nodding. “But then you, you came crashing into my life that day at the coffeeshop, and for some reason, it didn’t bother me that I was making time to talk to you, that I was unwittingly adjusting my days around your calls and texts. I tried to ignore it - I figured that whatever we had had an expiry date, you’d move on, and we’d occasionally send a text to each other to catch up, and that would be it. But I couldn’t ignore it.

“I didn’t want to be the one to bring it up, because, well, what if you didn’t feel the same? Then I’d probably be out a friend because it would be too awkward, and Niall, you make me laugh. All the time. You make me happy. I wouldn’t have been okay to lose that. So I’ve kept it to myself. Then you came over last night, drunk as fuck, and I knew something was bothering you. I wanted to ask you what it was, I wanted to fix it. Everything I’ve felt since we met has just grown stronger with time, and… I can’t pretend that it’s still just a harmless crush that will go away if I don’t acknowledge it.”

“I can’t, either.”

She can’t help it; Emilie dissolves into laughter at those three simple words coming immediately after she’s unloaded so much in such a short time. Niall’s face twists up in confusion, but she shakes her head, waves a hand at him. When she calms down again, she drags in a deep breath and wipes at her eyes.

“God. Sorry, I don’t even know what the fuck that was. I guess what I was trying to say with all of that word-vomit is, I can’t do the casual kind of thing any more.”

“Do you… think you could handle a relationship? With us being so far apart all the time?”

“I think so.” She sighs, shoves a hand through her hair. When she looks back at him, her lips twist up into a smile without her consent. “I’m pretty sure that, as long as it’s with you, I can handle a relationship. I mean, you’ve already got a pretty good understanding that Ry comes first, and well, I can’t complain about the sex.”

His cheeks flush before her eyes, and he ducks his head as he laughs. She watches closely as he scrubs a hand over his face; her chest tightens with emotion, and a voice in her brain whispers a wish for him to be here. They hang up after a few minutes, his parting words asking her to tell Ryder he said hello - “in the morning, of course. Don’t wanna get him excited right before bed.” She sits on her bed for a moment longer, enjoys the warmth that burns beautifully in her chest. She bites her lip and brings up her camera, snapping a quick photo of her smiling face. She sends it off to Niall before pushing to her feet and heading out to the living room.

Emilie comes to a stop right outside the door, stifling a giggle when she sees that Ryder has climbed into Derek’s lap and is now snoring against the man’s chest. Derek passes the sleeping child over. She freezes when Ryder lets out a whimper, but he doesn’t wake. Thankfully, she gets him tucked into his cot without any problems, and she makes sure his lion is right beside him and the nightlight is shining in its outlet.

“So?”

“Well…” She flops down and puts her head on Derek’s thigh, stares up at him with a giddy smile. “My boyfriend is amazing.”

“You guys made it official?”

She nods then bites back a yelp as his legs bounce underneath her head. His fingers brush her hair from her face, and he chews on his lower lip for a second. A bolt of unease flickers through her. She knows that Derek won’t try to convince her to not be with Niall - he was pushing for it, in fact - but he always manages to say things that she doesn’t expect.

“I’m happy for you, Emma-bean. Seriously. You deserve to be happy and loved in ways that I am unwilling to love you. I hope he treats you right.”

“So do I, D. It may be stupid, but I have high hopes for this.”

“Wine?”

“Wine.”

Once Derek is back with two glasses in hand, he passes one to her and lifts his drink into the air. “A toast to my best friend who’s finally got her head out of her ass and landed a hottie.”

“And a toast to my best friend who kicked my ass into gear so I could land said hottie.”

Her giggle is cut off by the sip she takes, and a pleasant heat sets up residence beneath her ribs, sends a buzzing along her veins that has little to do with the alcohol she’s about to imbibe and everything to do with the conversation she just had with Niall. She glances at the screen of her phone when it lights up, but before she can reach for the device, Derek is there. She grapples for the phone, finally managing to grab it from his hands. Her cheeks burn when she sees the five emojis blowing heart-kisses. She can’t even find it in her to worry whether she’s falling too hard, too fast; something about Niall makes her want to dive headfirst off the ledge and never look back.


	9. nine.

Emilie sighs and sets her phone down. Niall still hasn’t responded to her last text that she sent two days ago. He warned her that he would start getting busier now that he’s always having to travel for golf events, and then after that, he’d be focusing on writing music and getting into the studio. Though she knows logically that he can’t always be available to chat, she still thinks it sucks.

They only made things official less than a week ago, and Emilie has found herself torn between two minds - half of her brain is constantly preoccupied with thoughts of Niall, how happy she has been since he came into her life, and hopes that that contentedness and joy will continue through the future; while the other half whispers, especially late in the night when she’s supposed to be sleeping, all the doubts and worries that she successfully shoves aside. She’s honestly so terrified that her feelings aren’t real, that this is all just a way of attaching herself to someone who’s shown her the slightest hint of intimacy. There’s a visceral fear that he’s going to find it all too much to juggle his career and a relationship, that he is going to want to break up with her when Ryder continues to be most important to her.

Blowing a lock of hair from her face, she leans over the canvas, dabs another tiny dot of white into the sea of blue. Taking up running in the mornings has opened her up to the idea of diving back into her past hobbies; painting has been the one thing she loved more than the endorphin rush that comes with jogging around the city, and her mind feels incredibly at peace as she swirls the paintbrush into the water cup. There’s a looseness in her muscles that she’s missed. Her phone buzzes off to her right, and she glances over to read the notification - a text from her father, asking how she’s doing. She switches the paintbrush to her left hand and types back with one finger that she’s fine.

It isn’t until she can no longer see the canvas clearly that Emilie realises the apartment is rapidly darkening and her back throbs with a stabbing ache. She sets the paintbrush aside, pushing herself slowly to her feet, and stretches as she pads across the room to flip the light-switch. The overhead lights burst into life, and she blinks a few times to clear her vision. With a sigh, she starts putting away the tubes of paint and cleans the brush.

The face on the canvas nearly hurts to look at, a twinge deep in her chest, a pang of longing that pulses with cold. The painting isn’t close to being done. There isn’t enough sparkle in the blue of his eyes, and the skin-tone isn’t quite accurate. But the portrait of Niall grins back at her, nonetheless, and she misses him something fierce.

While the single-serve package of macaroni and cheese cooks in the microwave, Emilie leans against the counter and types out a message to her boyfriend. She hesitates, the words _Hey, babe, hope you’re doing well. I miss you xx_ sitting in the composition box, mocking her as she stares down at them. She doesn’t want to send a third message in less than two days. She sighs, presses the send button before she can overthink it.

Niall still hasn’t texted back by the time she crawls into bed. She tries not to take it personally, though it takes much more effort than she cares to admit. She makes sure her alarms are set then puts her phone on the nightstand, face-down. The pit in her gut opens up and threatens to swallow her whole as she curls into a ball in the middle of her bed. The sheets are cold, reminding her that she is utterly alone.

Emilie sighs at the lack of notifications and locks her phone, stepping up to the counter. The clerk asks for her ID in a bored voice, barely glances at the date of birth printed on the plastic, then shuffles off to grab the pack of Marlboros she’s asked for. She grimaces at the total that pops up on the small screen but dutifully passes over a ten-dollar bill. Once the change is in her hands, she nods a farewell and turns to leave.

She isn’t shocked to see Derek leaning against her car when she steps out into the portico. His disappointed expression is unsurprising, too. Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about the box of cigarettes in her hands - immediately. He asks about Ryder and Niall first _then_ gives the red-and-white package a pointed look.

“Why?”

“Stress.”

“Babe.”

“It’s just one pack, Derek, it isn’t a big deal.”

“You quit smoking the instant you found out Danielle was pregnant because you didn’t want second- and third-hand smoke affecting the baby.” He grips her chin with his thumb and forefinger, forces her to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”

“Can we not talk about this in the middle of the fucking gas station parking lot?”

His breath comes out in a heavy exhale, and he releases her. “Fine. I gotta run an errand real quick. Meet at Wally’s?”

She dips her chin in agreement and watches him make his way to his Mustang. He’s just opened the door and gotten one foot inside the vehicle when something hits her.

“Did you cheat and use my Find My Friend to hunt me down and stalk me?”

“Yeah. You weren’t home, so what else was I to do.”

She rolls her eyes, waving as he drives past. It’s been a long morning already, and Emilie knows it’s going to get worse during lunch. Derek is nothing if not a persistent interrogator. She decides not to think about it. If she does, she might just throw up everywhere.

Derek shows up at the burger joint right as she finishes her cigarette. She scrapes it against the bottom of her shoe, stomping on the still-smoldering ember, then drops the butt into the dredges of the Coke in the bottom of the can in the cup-holder. He loops his arm around her shoulder and guides her to the door. They don’t speak as they wait in line, and it’s a testament to their friendship that he doesn’t have to ask what she wants, he already knows.

The silence between them grows painful once they’re seated in a booth waiting for their food. Emilie forces herself not to squirm, but she can’t stop the way her fingers shakily tear a napkin into shreds. With a sigh, Derek rests his elbows on the table, clasps his hands in front of him.

“Emilie, c’mon.”

“It’s been a week since we’ve talked. Like, the last time he responded to any of my texts was a couple days after we made things official. And I know he’s busy, I get that. I mean, seriously, music _and_ golf? But… I dunno, my brain is being dumb.”

“No, your brain is taking past experiences, patterns it’s familiar with, and trying to apply them to this particular situation. It’s incorrect, but it does what it knows.” Derek gently takes the tattered remains of napkin from her. “Look, you said it yourself. He’s busy. And I’m sure he’s going to kick his own ass when he gets the chance to breathe and realises it’s been so long. Okay? You just gotta be patient.”

“D…”

“I know, I know. Patience isn’t your strong suit, but you’ve had plenty of practice with dealing with Danielle’s bullshit, right?”

Thankfully, his words have put the uncomfortable niggling in the back of her brain to rest - for now. By the time the worker sets the tray of food down, Emilie feels less like she is about to burst from her skin with nerves, and now that low-grade panic has been replaced with guilt. She shouldn’t have reacted this way to the lack of communication, especially since she was warned, and she _definitely_ should not have bought cigarettes. The first month after quitting the first time was nearly impossible; she’s not willing to go through that again. She doesn’t plan on throwing them out, though.

Derek turns out to be right: Five days later, Niall finally texts, and his first message is a mess of an apology. Emilie has a hard time keeping track of all the tangents, but she understands the general gist of it. She has no time to respond before another text comes in, this one promising he wasn’t purposefully ignoring her but if she’s mad at him, he completely understands. The typing bubble appears, and Emilie rolls her eyes, tapping quickly at the screen to get the message sent before he can send another apology.

  
**Emilie says:** Niall, stop!  
**Emilie says:** Give me a chance to respond please.  
**Emilie says:** I'm not mad, I promise. You warned me it would happen.  
  
**Niall says:** I still should not have taken two weeks to reply  
  
**Emilie says:** If you say sorry again, I won’t FaceTime you for a month.  
  
**Niall says:** You would never  
  
**Emilie says:** Yeah, I know.  
**Emilie says:** I'd miss your face too much, and why should I punish myself? lol  
  
**Niall says:** I miss you xx  


She curls into the arm of the couch and ignores the fluttering of her heart beneath her ribs. Wayne says _pitter patter, let’s get at ‘er_ on the television, but now that she has Niall’s attention, Emilie couldn’t care less about Letterkenny and its eclectic citizens. After an hour and a half, his replies come slower, and she realises she has no idea where he is in the world right now, so it could be the middle of the night for all she knows. She bites her lip and sends him a goodnight text, smiling when his response comes with a dozen heart-kiss emojis.

Conversation with him doesn’t reach the level they had when they first started talking, but they don’t go weeks without at least two texts a day. Emilie nearly chokes on her coffee in the middle of the coffeeshop one morning when the picture loads, and she instantly fumbles to close out of the message thread as her cheeks burn. She’s come to expect the usual _good morning, love_ messages, but never have they been accompanied by a nude selfie evidently taken after his shower. She waits to be safely in the confines of her car before she texts back with a jumbled mass of letters and a few heart-eye and water droplet emojis. And if she stares at the picture for a few minutes without shame, that’s her business.

Danielle is standing outside of her apartment when Emilie rounds the corner, and she wonders how long her former-stepsister has been there. Judging by the disgruntled expression on Ryder’s face, it’s most likely been more than five minutes. Danielle scoffs when she catches sight of Emilie.

“Finally. Where the Hell have you been?”

Emilie unlocks her door and steps inside, but Danielle doesn’t cross the threshold. “I went for a run then got some coffee. Why are you here?”

“Well, as you know, my birthday is on Sunday, and I was hoping you could keep him for a few days so I can celebrate.”

“Let me get this straight. You show up and expect me to suddenly drop everything to watch _your_ kid for a minimum of, what, four days so you can be drunk the entire time?”

“I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.”

“Jesus Christ, Danielle. Fine. I’ll do it. Did you pack enough diapers this time?”

“If you don’t want to do it, I can find someone else,” Danielle snaps out, and Emilie snorts inelegantly.

“No, you can’t. Which is why you always come to me.”

“I really don’t know why you’re being such a bitch about this, Emilie. You love him.”

“Did you bring enough diapers this time?”

Danielle practically throws the bag at Emilie, ducks down to brush a pathetic excuse for a kiss to Ryder’s head, then breezes out the door. Emilie is grateful that the doors here don’t slam, or else Ryder would be a lot more upset than he is right now. She bites back all the curse words she wants to say and gets busy changing her godson into an outfit not covered with crusted food.

Emilie sighs and contemplates ignoring the FaceTime call. It’s been a long week so far, and she still has at least another two days before Danielle might return for her son. But it won’t be fair to Niall. She scrubs at her eyes with one hand while pressing the accept button. His smile dims on the screen.

“You all right, love?”

“I’m okay, just tired and annoyed and wondering why the fuck I got stuck with the stepsister I did.”

At his inquisitive look, Emilie double-checks that Ryder is still sleeping peacefully in his cot in her bedroom and explains what happened to her boyfriend. He frowns as she speaks, his expression darker than she’s seen before. He tries to comfort her, to assure her that things will get better, says Danielle can’t remain immature and so self-absorbed forever. She wants to believe him - she desperately wants to - but she can’t let herself. She’s spent so many nights wishing that the woman would grow up and be the mother that Ryder deserves, only to be let down repeatedly when Danielle never changes.

“I think you need a vacation.”

Emilie reaches for a grape from the bag on her lap, brows drawing together. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you need a vacation. Here. With me.” Niall obviously interprets her expression correctly because he continues without letting her interrupt, “You’re not in school right now, you don’t have work to deal with. I know you’ll miss Ryder. Hell, I miss him, and I’m not nearly as close or attached to him as you are. But… Em, _I_ miss _you_, and I’m a selfish man who wants to spend time with you.”

Emilie chews the fruit slowly, lets his words sink in. She is surprised at how little trepidation or doubts she feels in regards to the idea; the worst part of it would be being away from the toddler she loves, not knowing if he’s being properly looked after while she’s gone. But she rarely does something spontaneous for herself any more. The runs and painting aren’t huge things to her. This will be. So she promises to think about it, even going so far as to swear on the existence of every Fleetwood Mac song that she will give it a lot of serious thought.

It takes less than thirty hours for Emilie to come to a decision. She screenshots the email and attaches it to a text to Niall then brings up the message thread with Danielle.

  
**Emilie says:** Hey, just a heads-up. I’m going to be gone for a week starting 28 August, so I won’t be able to watch Ry during that time. He can call me whenever he wants, and if there’s a problem, I’ll come straight back.  
  
**Danielle says:** K. Can u keep the kid again tonite? Got something to do  


“Something more important than your fucking child?” she mutters as she sends back a thumbs-up emoji.


	10. ten.

The airport is busy, crowded with people going to and from various places around the world. Emilie manages to find an empty chair by the terminal, and she sits, holds her purse in her lap. Nobody looks at the nervous young woman sitting alone as they bustle past, but she doesn’t mind; on the contrary, she loves people-watching and making up backstories about their lives, no matter how untrue they may be - her motto is, quite frankly, the more ridiculous, the better. It’s a lot more fun when Derek is with her, though.

Once she’s sufficiently lost the joy in thinking of absurd theories for the fellow fliers, Emilie turns her attention to digging through her purse until her fingers wrap around the hard case of her phone. She smiles at the image of Ryder on the lock screen, her already-aching heart hurting more as she remembers she’s going to be away from him for an entire week. She taps in her PIN and brings up the message app. Her text is going to be unwelcome, she knows this, but she can’t stop herself from typing out the message anyway.

  
**Emilie says:** Remember you can call me for whatever while I’m gone, and I’ll be on the first flight back.   
**Danielle says:** Idk y ur so worried I can take care of my own kid Emily **Emilie says:** I know you can, Danielle, it’s not that. I’ve just never been so far away from him. I’ve always been able to be there immediately if there’s an emergency or something.  


Her teeth grind together as she stares at the deliberate misspelling of her name. Danielle only ever does it when she’s annoyed, when Emilie isn’t doing what she wants when she wants, or when she decides to be a massive, inconsiderate pain in the ass. Which is often. Danielle’s response doesn’t come for a long time. Emilie is hopeful that her text will somehow assuage her former-stepsister’s ego.

  
**Danielle says:** I got this  
**Danielle says:** Have fun  


It isn’t _quite_ the closure Emilie was hoping for against her better instincts, but it will have to do. She shuts off her phone as the flight is called over the speakers, stands and gathers up her stuff, then follows the other passengers toward the gate. Getting through security is less of a hassle than anticipated, which was Emilie’s goal when she dressed for the day this morning: Leggings so no denim would dig into her waist or restrict her movement, an old Fleetwood Mac t-shirt she’d stolen off her father before she moved out of the house, and a pair of flats so she wouldn’t have to worry about tying laces. She inches down the aisle and finds her seat toward the back; she’s glad she didn’t pack a carry-on when her seatmate’s takes up most of the overhead bin.

The man sitting next to her is kind, even sweet, but definitely a talker. Every time she thinks he’s done, he turns to her with even more to say. She nods along politely, having had plenty of practice with Ryder and his chatter. It’s only because she knows there’s less than three hours on the flight that she keeps up the pretence; the last thing she wants to do right now is offend someone and end up being in a foul mood when landing. This is supposed to be a vacation. It’s already bad enough that she misses her godson so much, it hurts. There’s no need to add to it.

Her phone buzzes seconds after she turns it back on. Emilie ignores it until she’s off the plane and past the groups of people greeting their loved ones. She grins as she saves the photo of Ryder to her phone, though the happiness at seeing him is tinged with confusion that Danielle would willingly send her a picture. Deciding not to dwell too much on it, she switches to the thread with the highest number of unread messages: Niall.

  
**Niall says:** Are you excited?   
**Niall says:** I am **Niall says:** Have you taken off yet?  
**Niall says:** Did you tell Danielle that she can call whenever ?  
**Niall says:** I'm sure you did but just thought I'd remind you  
**Niall says:** Emilllliiiiieeee time is moving too slow  
**Niall says:** Landed yet ?  
**Niall says:** What about now ?  
**Niall says:** Okay I'll stop messaging you so much  
**Niall says:** Sorry about that  
**Niall says:** Can't wait to see you  
**Niall says:** Last one I promise  
**Niall says:** Let me know when you're on your way  


Emilie snorts before giggling, claps a hand over her mouth to stifle the noise, though there’s no need - the ambient noise of the airport is far louder than her laughter. She doesn’t reply to the texts; instead, she makes her way to baggage claim and waits for her suitcase to come around on the conveyor belt. Once it’s in hand, she heads toward the exit, hails a taxi as soon as she steps out into the bright sunshine, and slides into the backseat before anyone else can try to steal the cab from her. She prefers using Uber or Lyft for rides, but she doesn’t want to have to wait.

Music echoes through the quiet from the backyard, and she wonders if he’ll even hear the knocking on his front door. It’s proven that he won’t by the fact that she’s still standing on the porch three minutes later. Eventually, Emilie sighs, rolling her eyes fondly, and steps back to snap a picture of the door in front of her. The song changes to the next, and in the silence between, she hears a shout and laughter, then the door is swinging open in the next minute to reveal Niall’s grinning face, blue eyes bright above pink cheeks. She barely gets the chance to raise her arms before he’s wrapping her up in a warm hug, squeezing just a bit too tightly. She buries her face into his neck, grins widely.

“You were supposed to let me know when you landed!”

“Thought I’d surprise you like this instead.”

“I’m glad you did.” His hands are trembling slightly when he cradles her cheeks; his eyes shine suspiciously brighter, and Emilie is sure it isn’t from the sunlight. “Are you ready for an entire week with me?”

“I mean, I guess.”

He kisses her forehead with a chuckle, links his fingers with hers, and grabs her suitcase with his other hand before leading her inside. She’s seen his house before through all of their FaceTime calls, but it looks so much better in person. She toes off her flats by the door and pads after him barefoot as he guides her to the stairs. He comes to a stop in the middle of the hallway, bites his lip.

“I... if you want, you can sleep in the guest room. Or mine. It’s up to you.”

Emilie stifles a giggle and touches his lower lip with the tip of her finger, gently manipulating it out from between his teeth. “I haven’t seen you in over a month. I think the only right choice is your bed.”

He swallows hard and nods, turns toward a door. She follows him into the bedroom. The bed is awfully inviting, beckoning her, but she ignores how desperately she wants to lie down and not leave the room for hours. Instead, she waits until Niall’s hands are free before wrapping her arms around his neck; his grin disappears, swallowed up by the kiss, and Emilie lets out a soft sigh as his hands rest on her hips, tug her closer.

The time apart has done nothing to quell how she feels about him, or how much she craves his touch. She exhales sharply when his fingers dig into the curve of her ass, heat and want flaring in her belly. She’s had doubts that he’s just as invested, but she finds it hard to be insecure when he’s holding her like this, his scent wrapping around her like a blanket of security as his tongue battles hers for dominance, when he is so close to her that her body feels like it’s about to take flight but only remaining because of his arms holding her.

“Nialler! Where’d ya go?”

His groan would be hilarious if Emilie wasn’t just as frustrated. Niall leans his forehead to hers, and she stares up at him; his pupils are blown wide, black overtaking the crystal blue, and her breath comes out in a shuddering gust. His lips quirk upwards, and she stretches up to kiss him again.

“They’ll come looking for me,” he whispers apologetically against her lips, and Emilie frowns but steps away.

“Fine. If we must.”

“Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay. They gotta leave sometime, right?”

Her heart swells at the low chuckle he gives her, and her hand finds his easily. He stays close to her, their arms brushing together with each step, as they make their way downstairs and out onto the deck. A small group of people sit at the table, and Emilie inhales slowly to calm her suddenly-racing heart. Niall tugs her toward an empty spot, lets her get settled in before he sits next to her. She closes her eyes with a slight smile when he kisses her temple.

“You must be Emilie.”

“Yeah, I am.”

The guy who’d spoken grins, dimples just as on display as the tattoos on his chest in the gap of his unbuttoned shirt. He reaches out to shake her hand. “Harry. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Honestly thought Niall made you up.”

“Shut up, Louis,” groans Niall, even as the others laugh.

Louis protests through his chuckles, “It’s true!”

Emilie leans into Niall’s side while he makes introductions. Harry keeps her laughing with horrible jokes, and John asks her questions about her life back home. Mully occasionally pipes in with random bits of information obviously hand-selected to try to embarrass Niall. Melody mostly stays quiet, and Emilie squirms uncomfortably under her scrutiny. Louis disappears into the house a few minutes later then returns with a child in his arms; the toddler blinks sleepily in Emilie’s direction before looking up at Louis, whose face softens as he stares down at the child.

“And this handsome devil is my son, Freddie.”

“He’s adorable,” Emilie manages to get out, though her throat is rapidly growing tight; her chest aches, feels hollow.

“You okay?”

She nods, not trusting herself to speak, but Niall understands. He kisses her hair, whispers that she can go call Ryder if she wants, no one would judge her for it. Emilie is touched by his consideration but chooses to stay where she is. She knows Danielle would fly off the handle if Emilie called right now, and that isn’t what she wants to deal with at the moment. So she lets her head drop to Niall’s shoulder, stares out at the backyard as the voices around her blend and blur into one mass of sound. A bead of sweat snakes down her spine, tickling a path along her skin; she jerks at the touch of a small hand on her arm and turns to see Freddie standing next to her, a grape clutched in his fingers.

“Is this for me?” He nods, and she holds out her hand; the beaming smile she gets in return eases some of the ache of missing Ryder. “Thank you, Freddie. That’s very kind of you to share with me.”

He places the fruit on her palm and goes back to his dad. When Emilie sets the grape on the table, she catches sight of Niall staring at her. There’s something indecipherable in his eyes, but the sweet smile tells her it’s something good. Someone lets out a sharp whistle while another says _ow-ow!_ when he leans forward and kisses her, and Emilie giggles as she pulls back.

The hours spent outside with the group go by fast. One minute, Emilie is chatting with Harry and Mully, with the occasional interruption as Freddie brings her more and more fruit, and the next, the sun is slipping below the horizon and everyone is preparing to leave. Harry holds out his arms in question, and Emilie nods, lets him wrap her up in a tight hug. Freddie leaves a sloppy kiss on her cheek; she grins and tickles him, listening to his precious giggles echoing in the backyard. John merely waves at her before heading through the door into the house, and Melody doesn’t even look back. Mully, wisely, disappears up the stairs with a quick goodnight.

Emilie helps carry in the dishes, and she and Niall wash them together. As soon as she’s set the last plate into the drying rack, he steps closer, pins her between his body and the counter. Her lips burn with the heat of the kiss, her head sent swimming instantly. She moans low in her throat as his hands skim along her body, arches into his touch. They’re both breathing heavily when he pulls away. He doesn’t go far, and she chases the heady taste of his lips; they laugh into the kiss as their feet get tangled up, but the amusement fades quickly, their steps becoming more hurried as they make their way toward the large couch, still wrapped up in each other. She knows this isn’t a good idea, since Niall’s best friend is right upstairs, but she can’t find it in her to stop this. Not right now.

He drags her down with him, and she carefully shifts until her thighs are pressed to his hips. His murmured _damn it_ sends shivers down her spine; Emilie sits up long enough to yank her shirt over her head. It hits the floor somewhere, she doesn’t care, only focused on feeling Niall beneath her. Her hands roam across his abdomen, under the cotton of his tee, and she bites down gently on his bottom lip. He growls deep in his chest, a hand sliding up her back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. It quickly joins her top on the floor, along with his. She lifts her hips so he can shove haphazardly at his pants, push them down. Emilie belatedly realises that she’ll have to stand in order to remove her leggings, so she does with a petulant groan. Her disgruntlement disappears in a flash once she finishes with the task.

No words are spoken between them as they move together. His hands leave flaming paths on her flesh, but it’s nothing compared to the inferno that’s burning her up from the inside out. Emilie swallows down the moan that escapes from him, the kiss hard and insistent and bruising, even as she presses her fingers into his skin. A sharp pain blossoms to life in her hips where his nails dig into the flesh, helping her to lift and fall, to ride the heady wave crashing through her. She bites back a breathless sob as she crests; he shushes her softly, but she can’t focus on anything but how she feels. Evidently, he’s having the same problem. He buries his face against her throat and muffles his groan into her skin.

Her body is heavy, sated in ways that she isn’t quite accustomed to after almost two months of not seeing Niall. Emilie stretches along the couch, relief pouring through her when her muscles lose the tension from use. Niall drags a fingertip across the planes of her belly, and she giggles and squirms away. His laugh is music to her ears; she tilts her head up to kiss him gently.

“Fuck, but I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

They lie there for a few minutes, listening to each other breathing, but eventually, Emilie grows uncomfortable with being completely nude when there’s the risk of Mully coming downstairs at any time. She climbs unsteadily to her feet, and Niall pouts up at her. Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head and refuses to give into his puppy eyes. Saying the magic word of “shower” spurs him into action: He rolls off the couch and helps her gather up their clothes. She dresses quickly, grimacing at the cushions they’ve just had sex on. He interprets her expression correctly, chuckling before pressing his lips to hers.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wash the covers.”

The shower they share is surprisingly chaste; Niall scrubs her back clean for her, and even though he peppers her skin with kisses, he doesn’t push for anything else, and neither does Emilie. The domesticity alone is intimate enough for her right now. Once they’ve both rinsed the soap from their bodies, she steps into his arms, rests her forehead against his shoulder, and breathes in the scent of him. The water beating down on her skin is relaxing, the warmth and steadiness pushing exhaustion into her bones. His grip tightens around her before he reaches around her to turn the shower off. She shivers in the cool, damp air of the bathroom as she steps out of the shower stall, and he passes over a towel.

They dress in silence then walk hand-in-hand into the bedroom. It’s different to be sleeping with him in his own bed. They’ve always been in hers, her apartment, her car. He’s been on her territory. The unfamiliarity of his home and the fact that she’s so far from Ryder sends a persistent, anxious buzzing up her spine, and she blows out a shaky breath. Niall pulls her to cuddle close into his side once they’ve crawled between the sheets. He tugs the comforter up until her shoulders are covered, and she burrows further into the solid heat of his body.

“I’m so glad you came,” he whispers after he’s turned off the bedside lamp. “I was… I was afraid you’d say no.”

She huffs out a laugh. “I almost did, to be honest. But I guess I figured that if you could be selfish enough to invite me, I could be selfish enough to accept.”

“Selfishness is good sometimes.”

“I think I’ll be selfish more often,” admits Emilie; her promise is broken by the wide yawn that cracks her jaw, and she sighs heavily as the rest of her energy seeps from her. She doesn’t hear Niall’s response before she’s asleep.


	11. eleven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays! i have been super busy today which is why this update is coming so late in the evening. i hope your holidays, whichever ones you celebrate, are as lovely as you. and you reading this story - _any_ of my stories, really - is the christmas gift that keeps on giving, and i love it and i love you 🖤

It’s late in the morning. Emilie knows it without even opening her eyes. Her internal alarm may not have woken her today, but it’s certainly telling her now that she pressed the metaphorical snooze button quite a few times. She breathes out deeply, peacefulness seeping into her entire being as she melts further into the mattress beneath her. She doesn’t remembering dreaming anything through the night, not even the nightmares she usually has whenever she doesn’t see Ryder regularly, and she knows that the fact that Niall is less than two inches from her is the biggest reason why her dreams weren’t there.

“Mm, keep doin’ that, and we ain’t gettin’ outta bed,” she murmurs at the warm lips that press to her shoulder, and Niall’s chuckle ghosts across her skin.

“Why would I want to get out of bed when you’re right here?” He kisses the curve of her neck but pulls away, and Emilie pouts to herself. “Your accent is adorable, by the way.”

“I don’t have an accent, you do.”

Niall doesn’t bother arguing with her sleepy protests, just _mm_s in response then leans over to kiss her cheek. She finally rolls over to face him, and he brushes a lock of hair from her face. His eyes are bright as he stares down at her. A soft flush covers his cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. She stretches up to kiss that happy grin away; it fails. When they part, he’s smiling even more, teeth on display.

“Good morning.”

“Morning.” She pushes at his shoulders until he backs up a little bit, then sits up, yawning widely and stretching her muscles. She doesn’t miss the way his gaze skims over her body. “What time is it?”

“It’s… nine,” he responds with a quick check of his phone.

“Mm. I haven’t woken up this late in a long time.”

They stay there for a few more minutes, but then Emilie’s body reminds her of its biological needs. She frowns and glares at her growling belly, which makes Niall laugh and say something about food. Assuring him that she’ll be down in just a minute, Emilie heads to the attached bathroom to use the toilet, wash her hands, and brush her teeth. The bed calls for her to come back as she walks into the bedroom again. She nearly gives in then remembers Niall’s promise of breakfast.

The uncovered couch cushions catch her eye as Emilie passes through the living room, and her skin heats up with the memory of last night. She still can’t believe that it happened; as great as it was, it was foolish and risky to have sex on the couch with Mully just upstairs. She can’t summon up the wherewithal to regret the events, though.

She finds Niall sat at the dining table, scrolling through something on his phone. Mully barely catches her eye then instantly ducks his head again, and Emilie knows he knows what happened last night after he went to bed. Her cheeks burn as she makes her way to sit next to her boyfriend. He leans over to kiss her temple, and she feels the mortification bleeding away to be replaced by a giddy sort of happiness. She’s finally done something selfish, something for herself that brings her peace. She’s _here_.

There’s nothing on the guys’ schedule for the day, so Emilie heads upstairs to change from her pyjamas into a pair of shorts and a sleeveless tunic, then joins them on the back patio to enjoy the easy quiet of the morning. As the two chat about various things, occasionally making sure she’s paying attention to whatever story they’re retelling, she stays curled up against Niall’s side on the poolside chair. His heartbeat is steady under her palm, skin warm from the sun, and something inside of her loosens and breaks free from the worry she’s carried with her since she agreed to come.

The silence is broken by voices coming from inside around noon. Emilie sits up to see who has arrived and immediately gets enveloped in a tight hug from behind. She laughs, pats the top of Harry’s head where it rests on her shoulder. He presses a smacking kiss to her cheek then ducks out of range of Niall’s hand. Louis doesn’t have Freddie with him today, and Emilie frowns at the sinking sensation in her chest.

Her attention is dragged away from her thoughts by Niall capturing her mouth with his as his hand comes up to bury itself in her hair; the kiss isn’t the gentle, tender ones they usually share. Instead, it feels as if he’s staking claim to her, proving that she’s his. The caveman routine is normally a turn-off, but she can’t begrudge him this. He’s had to deal with the jealousy of her hanging out with Derek while he’s so far away. So she lets him make his point, then kisses him more softly once he’s done.

“Sorry,” he breathes against her lips, and Emilie kisses away the apologies.

Melody is watching them closely when Emilie finally pulls away from Niall. She wonders if there’s going to be a problem between the other woman and herself - she’s pretty sure there might be, if Melody’s guarded expression is any indication. She doesn’t get long to dwell on that thought before John and Mully rope her into their conversation.

Emilie loses track of where Niall’s gone an hour later, and though she wishes she could go search for him, she doesn’t want to seem clingy and give Melody more ammunition against her. So she grabs up her phone and makes her way down to the far side of the pool, sitting on the edge with her bare feet in the water, and types out a text to Danielle. When her former stepsister merely sends back a _K_, Emilie sighs and starts the FaceTime call.

Danielle’s eyes look clearer than Emilie anticipated, and she even smiles. “Hey, how’s vacation?”

“It’s going really well. I’m glad I came. How are you and Ry?”

“We’re good. He just finished dinner, so let me get him cleaned up then you can talk to him.” The sight of the ceiling fills the screen, and Emilie winces as she hears Ryder whining in the background. A few minutes later, Danielle comes back. “Ready?”

“I’m always ready to see my little dude.”

Ryder squeals happily when he sees Emilie, and she blinks back tears. The aching in her chest settles some at the toothy grin he gives her. She drags in a shaky breath and asks how he’s doing. His babbling washes over her; she listens as intently as she can, not wanting to miss a second of hearing his voice or seeing his face. Her skin prickles with the weight of someone staring at her, and she looks up to see Melody standing next to the grill where the guys have all gathered. The other woman’s brow raises before she pointedly turns away.

“You home?”

Emilie twitches then looks at her godson. “Oh, no, buddy, I’m not home. Remember? Auntie Em had to go on vacation.”

“You home?”

“I’ll be home in just a few days, and then I’m kidnapping you from your Mommy so I can have you all to myself.”

“Trust me, I’ll be ready for that,” laughs Danielle.

It takes all of Emilie’s willpower not to make a comment in response, but she manages to swallow down the words and focuses on finishing her conversation with Ryder. Footsteps come closer. She glances up to see Niall standing there, watching her. He gestures toward the deck, and Emilie nods.

“Okay, my dude, Auntie Em’s gotta go eat some food. I’ll call you again tomorrow, all right?”

“You call ‘morrow?”

“I promise. Trust?”

“Trust!”

“All right. Love you more than the rainbow.”

His face scrunches up as he screeches, “Love you rainbow!”

Danielle ends the call then, and Emilie coughs quietly to dislodge the lump in her throat. After a moment, she pushes herself to stand, taking care not to fall into the pool, and shakes the excess water off her feet. Niall links their fingers together, pulls her to a stop before she can pass by him. He doesn’t say anything, though, just stares down at her. She stretches up onto her tiptoes to kiss him gently, and his expression smooths out, a brilliant smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“We shouldn’t do this,” she whispers as her eyes fall closed, but he shushes her, kissing the column of her throat before biting down sharply.

His hand comes up to cover her mouth, stifling her gasp and subsequent moan as he pushes into her, and Emilie’s fingers curl into the countertop. His - _their_ \- friends are just downstairs, laughing and drinking and talking amongst themselves. Any of them could come up and catch them, and she thinks it’s that thrill that makes everything hotter. His hips press against her ass, and she follows his hand when it pushes her forward gently. The marble counter is freezing against her belly, almost painful as it digs into her waist, but then Niall is moving, pushing and pulling and filling her over and over.

She’d only come up to take a shower, having just undressed when the door creaked open; she hadn’t expected Niall to corner her with a dangerous gleam in his eye, his jealousy from earlier back with a vengeance and more than evident. The bruising kiss he gave her had stolen her breath, and she hadn’t had the chance - or the desire - to deny him this.

Emilie cries out, tears pricking at her eyes, when Niall’s hand slides along her damp skin to cup her breast. His movements are rough, unmeasured thrusts that rock her body, and his nails dig into her skin. A whimper spills from her lips as he meets her gaze in the mirror. She can scarcely breathe as he slams into her, as he slips a hand between her thighs. His free arm comes up, stretches across her chest; his fingers curl around her shoulder, and she bites down hard on her lower lip when he gracelessly tugs her back onto his cock.

Time stops, the world disappears, all that remains is the two of them right here. Her legs are cramping up from being on her tiptoes for so long, and she can’t easily ignore the pain that lances through her hips from the edge of the countertop, but then the heat is building more and more. She gasps, whimpers, explodes moments later. Her cry echoes through the bathroom, and Niall flashes her a smug smile even as his thrusts quicken then falter. He drapes himself across her back, his hips stilling against her ass, and she tries to catch her breath as he pulses inside of her.

Emilie waits until he’s cleaned himself up and pulled up his pants before turning around. Her arms wrap around his neck; she stretches up to kiss him lightly. “Do you feel better?”

“Yeah. I, er… sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. Trust me, if I had a problem with it, I’d have told you.” She catches his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging lightly, then grows serious. “You know you’re the only one I want, right? No one else comes close - not Derek, not Harry, not anyone. Just you.”

“I know,” he breathes before stepping back.

His gaze skims over her body, and he grins widely then slips from the bathroom. Emilie laughs softly to herself then makes her way to the shower. She isn’t sure whether or not Niall believes her, all she can do is hope he does. A shiver of delight runs down her spine with the ghost of Niall’s touch, the twinge of pain that ripples through her from the way he fucked her without restraint. She exhales slowly, presses her fingertips to the half-moons that mar the skin by her hip. She hopes they stay for a while.

The week passes by far too quickly, and thankfully, there are no more occurrences of caveman-like, jealousy-induced behaviour. Between the peaceful days spent being lazy and long nights spent between the sheets, exploring the taste and feel of each other, learning and committing to memory the sounds he makes, Emilie wakes up on the final morning of her stay wishing for more time. It’s almost impossible how fast time has gone. Her heart aches with the weight of saying goodbye; she doesn’t want to leave yet. She wants to keep being selfish and stay here in this bed with this man until the world turns to dust.

An urgency flickers painfully beneath her skin, races along her nerves, and Emilie reaches out to brush Niall’s hair from his face. He doesn’t wake at the gentle touch, but she didn’t expect him to. They didn’t fall asleep until almost four in the morning, making the most of their last night together. She chews on the inside of her cheek and stares at him. It isn’t fair that this is all she’s getting of him. She will take it without complaint, though.

Niall lets out a soft groan, exhaling sharply through his nose, and his eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones before he opens his eyes to peer blearily at her. She merely smiles in response, drags her fingertips along the sharp curve of his hip. His sleepiness disappears almost instantly, and he rolls onto his back, reaching for her. She doesn’t hesitate, just thanks the stars that they didn’t bother pulling clothes back on last night. The rapid pounding of her heart is nothing compared to the love and desire and need that fills her as surely as he does.


	12. twelve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year have a new chapter. (:

Emilie keeps her head ducked down as she makes her way to the car waiting outside the gate. Niall warned her that people tend to camp out outside his house on occasion, and the last thing she wants right now is her face plastered all over the internet in relation to her boyfriend. If Danielle ever found out who Emilie has spent her vacation with, there would be no end in sight to her demands that Emilie facilitate some sort of acquaintanceship between Danielle and Niall, and not because Danielle gives a damn about being friends with Emilie’s boyfriends - she’d only see money signs. And Emilie would rather die than have the two ever meet.

She’s just reached the airport when her phone vibrates; she waits until she has checked in for the flight and gone through security, sitting on the floor with her back to the wall, to open the message. It’s a selfie of Niall’s pouting face, captioned with _I miss you already_. Emilie huffs out a laugh, saves the photo, and sends back a wish to still be there. She keeps one ear open for the announcement of her flight, but most of her attention is on the painful twinging in her heart that accompanies the knowledge that this last week has been the most perfect, amazing week of her life.

Ryder will always be her number one priority - being his protector and caretaker has been her role since before he was even born, and that will never, ever change. But Niall has swiftly risen in ranks of importance. It’s been less than six months since they met, not even three since they started dating, and somehow, he’s buried himself so far under her skin that she can scarcely breathe without feeling him in every molecule of her being.

Fireflies dance through the summer-hot air, sweetly tinged with fresh rain and wet soil, as crickets chirp out their songs in the slightly overgrown grass. Sweat beads along her hairline as Emilie makes her way up to the porch. She can hear the screaming and crying before she even reaches the door, and she frowns, fear lancing through her at the sound. Her hands shake violently as she unlocks the door, pushing it open as soon as the lock slides out of place. She isn’t prepared for what she finds.

Shards of glass from a shattered liquor bottle glimmer on the floor in the yellow glow from the lamp, and someone has evidently punched through the plaster of the wall, the gaping maw of the hole stark against the white paint. Clothes and dishes litter the floor; Emilie covers her mouth and nose at the stench of used diapers and body odour, the bite of alcohol and traces of a chemical sweetness. She tiptoes further into the destruction, stumbling to a stop when something cracks under her feet. The fragments of the syringe stare up at her, and she has to swallow a few times to force the bile back down her throat.

Her head snaps up at another high-pitched shrieking, and Emilie is moving before she can think it through. Ryder stands in his playpen in the kitchen, naked but for the diaper that sags down his legs. Snot and tears cover his ruddy cheeks, a blotchy redness spreading along his chest. He tugs his fingers from his mouth when he sees Emilie in the doorway, and she ignores the saliva that coats his hand as she tugs him up into her arms. She can’t breathe through her own tears; she picks her way back to the living room, searches desperately for the diaper bag.

Once the toddler is cleaned up and dressed, Emilie scoops him up again and goes to find his mother. It isn’t a surprise to find Danielle passed out on her bed, face lax with sleep and drugs. Emilie doesn’t bother leaving a note - she just grabs the diaper bag and walks out of the house with Ryder held close to her chest. She forces herself to draw in a couple of steadying breaths then buckles him into his carseat.

“Hey, bud, you hungry? Wanna get some chicken nuggets?”

“Chicky nuggies?” Ryder repeats, and Emilie can’t stop more tears from breaking free at how raw and scratchy his voice is.

“Yeah, baby, we’re gonna get some chicky nuggies.”

Ryder is asleep by the time Emilie makes it through the McDonald’s drive-thru, and she pulls over into a parking spot and climbs into the backseat. He wakes easily enough, though all he does is nibble at the edges of a chicken nugget; her heart hurts, and she wonders how long he was left alone and crying. She runs a hand over his head, grimacing at the feel of his dry scalp. He manages to eat two nuggets before his eyes begin to droop again. Emilie packs up the remainders of his meal then slides into the driver’s seat and points the wheels toward home.

He stays asleep even while she bathes him, scrubs the filth and snot from his body, and dresses him in a pair of warm pyjamas. Emilie tucks him into bed, Lionel the lion pressed close to his side, and tiptoes from the room. Her phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and she wants so badly to ignore it, but she knows she promised Niall that she would text as soon as she got home. There are four messages from him, all asking how the flight was and if she is okay because it’s been so long.

  
**Emilie says:** Yeah, I landed. I'm okay. I'm home. Had to stop and get Ry on my way.  
  
**Niall says:** I’m glad to hear that you’re okay  
**Niall says:** Is something wrong?  


Instead of texting the entire story, Emilie sighs and starts a FaceTime call. Niall answers immediately, his expression one of concern and worry. Her voice shakes with rage, tears, as she explains what happened; she has to set her phone on the counter, perching on the stool and leaning the device against the paper-towel holder so that the video remains steady. It’s comforting - in a sick, twisted way - to see him have the same reaction to the news as she is. She finally falls silent a few minutes later, and her chest heaves with the force of her tremulous breaths.

“What are you going to do?” he asks after a moment, and Emilie shrugs, avoids meeting his gaze.

“I, uh, I’m going to call child welfare services tomorrow. She fucking endangered his life, and I can’t let that go. I can’t always be the one to fix whenever she fucks up. What happens the next time she does this same kind of shit and I’m not there to save him?” She wipes a tear from her cheek, exhaling sharply. “I can’t lose him because she’s a terrible person who can’t put his needs before her wants. If it means I don’t ever get to see him again, it’ll… it’ll be worth it if he’s safe and has a shot at a healthy, happy, normal life.”

“I think that’s the right decision.”

“God, Niall, why the fuck can’t she get her act together?”

“I don’t know, love, but I’m sorry that she won’t.”

“Yeah, so am I. I better go, I know he’ll probably wake up just as early as usual.”

“Okay. Will you be all right?”

“I think so. I’ll text you tomorrow, okay?”

After saying goodnight, Emilie ends the call and heads back to the bedroom. She doesn’t hesitate, just scoops Ryder out of his own bed and sets him down in hers. He curls against her in his sleep, and she stares at his relaxed face, wondering how Danielle could be so damn selfish when she has someone so amazing depending on her. Emilie falls asleep with tears sliding from the corners her eyes to dampen her hair.

Calling DCFS in the morning damn near kills Emilie, but she does it anyway. The social worker on the other end of the line promises an investigation will be launched, assuring her that - providing she and her home pass an inspection - Ryder is best left in her care until a judge can assign a date for a hearing. With one final promise to be by sometime within the next twenty-four hours, the social worker ends the call, and Emilie stares at the screen of her phone before dialling another number, requests that the officer do a welfare check on her former stepsister. She makes sure to stress that if they feel the need to take photographs of the environment, it would probably be best to do so.

The next week passes by in a blur. School has officially started again, which means that Emilie has to ask Derek and Monica for their work schedules so that none of her classes will coincide with their shifts; they have always offered to babysit Ryder if she ever needs it, and right now, she definitely needs it.

  
**Emilie says:** Happy birthday! I know it’s stupid early (it’s 5 here in Austin, so it’s gotta be early af for you, too). Enjoy this photo of the child who decided to wake up at 3 this morning only to fall back asleep across MY FREAKING FACE which means I’ve been awake for the last two hours.  
**Emilie says:** I hope your day is as fantastically wonderfully beautifully amazing as you are xxxx  
**Emilie says:** I’m sure if Ry was awake and capable of putting together full sentences, he’d say the same.  
**Emilie says:** I miss the fuck out of you  


Emilie doesn’t trust herself to drive to the coffeeshop when Ryder finally wakes at eight, so she digs out the actual coffeemaker and brews a full pot instead of using the French press. Once the machine is going, she sends an SOS text to Monica asking for the strongest mocha possible. Her stomach rumbles, and Emilie reaches for the bag of waffles in the freezer. Ryder gives her a sloppy smile when she puts the plate on the high-chair tray. She kisses his cheek and heads back to the fridge, filling a sippy cup with milk for him.

“You’re a fucking godsend.”

Monica passes over the iced mocha with a grimace, and Emilie belatedly realises she still has a waffle held between her teeth. She pulls it away, repeats herself, and the other woman grins then pushes into the apartment. Emilie swallows down a mouthful of the coffee and takes a bite of the waffle. Sitting on one of the stools, she watches her friend accept the strip of waffle that Ryder offers her.

  
**Niall says:** Thank you for the message , love  
**Niall says:** It was nice to wake up to 😊  
**Niall says:** I’m sorry Ryder woke you up so early but I really loved that picture. I’ll call you later tonight if that’s okay ?  
  
**Emilie says:** Of course it is, sweets. My phone is always on for you  


“Mmm, is that the cutie?”

Emilie looks up from her phone, laughs quietly. “You know damn well that he’s beyond ‘the cutie’, Moni.”

“Yeah, I know. God, you’re disgustingly in lust, aren’t you.”

“Why are you even still here? I only needed coffee, not you, too.”

“Because you love my face.” Monica scrunches up her nose, sticking out her tongue, then her expression grows serious. “But for real, I’m happy that you two made it a thing. You deserve bright skies and sparkles, not the gloom you were trudging through.”

“It wasn’t _gloom_, really, just… routine.”

“Well, now you’ve got that cutie and this cutie here. So yay happiness! But with that, I must take my leave. I have the closing shift at the bakery, and I have less than twenty minutes to get there. Oops. Think Derek will kill me?”

“Tell him I have wine if he lets you live.”

Her laughter echoes in the otherwise silent hallway, and Emilie shuts the door on the sound. It’s been seven hours since she woke up, and all she wants to do is go to bed right this second. Unfortunately, if she naps now, she won’t sleep tonight, and, worse still, there is no certainty that she will wake when Ryder finishes his own nap. She doesn’t want to be Danielle. She refuses to even come close. So she brews another pot of coffee and hopes it’s enough to get through the rest of the day.

Dinner is a quiet affair; even Ryder is unusually withdrawn as he picks up chunks of chicken and shoves them into his mouth. Emilie leans her head on her hand, pushes her food around her plate. Her exhaustion is at the level that she’s nauseous, dizzy, and irritable. She’s done her best to not snap whenever Ryder has behaved like a typical child, but she know she failed a few times. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to hold it against her, still cuddling up to her and kissing her whenever he deigned to show affection instead of colouring or playing with his toys.

A loud pounding on the door causes Emilie to jerk to attention. Ryder barely looks away from his meal, and she sighs, pushing to her feet, and goes to greet the guest. Her heart stutters in her chest before starting up a painful pace. She can scarcely breathe, and a freezing sort of numbness diffuses through her. She stares, her mouth opens and closes a few times.

“What are you doing here?” she finally manages to croak out, and Danielle grins brightly, pushing past Emilie with ease.

“I was ordered to clean the house up, make it fit for a child to live there. I did. I was ordered to go to NA, AA, therapy, and parenting classes. I am. Since I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, the courts said I could have my son back. So… I’m getting him back. Can you get his shit gathered up so we can go? I have things to do.”

“You, you neglected him, you _nearly killed_ him, and they still saw fit to let you keep custody?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” scoffs Danielle as she gathers up the diaper bag. “Besides, he’s fine. Is this everything?”

Emilie follows after her former stepsister, tries to protest, but it’s in vain: Danielle scoops her screaming son from the high-chair, disregarding the fact he isn’t finished eating, and exits the apartment without a backwards glance. Emilie stumbles to a stop in the doorway, clinging to the frame to stay on her feet, and Ryder’s crying is heard long after the door to the parking structure closes with a deafening bang. She can’t breathe, she can’t see through the tears.

When it becomes evident that Danielle isn’t going to bring him back, Emilie reluctantly steps back into the apartment, closes the door, and makes her way to the couch, sobbing at the sudden loss. Toys litter the floor, papers strewn everywhere. The star-speckled bucket is on its side, crayons spilling out onto the rug. She wants to text Niall, tell him what’s happened, but it’s his birthday. The thought of ruining the day for him - all because she needs a little reassurance - isn’t one she’s willing to entertain. So she curls into a ball on her side, staring at the mess that Ryder has left behind, and lets herself cry.

  
**Niall says:** Hey it’s been a hectic day but I have time if it’s still okay to call ?  
  
**Emilie says:** Yeah…  
  
**Niall says:** Love? You okay ?  
  
**Emilie says:** Yeah  
**Emilie says:** Actually, no. No I’m not ofuckingkay.  
**Emilie says:** Fucking Danielle still has fucking custody of Ryder.  
**Emilie says:** She just swooped in and took him. She nearly kills him and the judge basically said “Oh that’s fine, your kid ALMOST DIED, but yeah, you can have him back!”  
**Emilie says:** I’m angry and I’m hurt and it’s your birthday so I’m sorry to unload all this on you right now but wtf why does she get another chance to ruin her kid’s life????  
  
**Niall says:** Are you serious ?? That’s awful. Such a horrible decision. Is there anything you can do?  
  
**Emilie says:** Short of kidnapping him and going on the run, no. I don’t think there is. Guess I gotta go back to being the protector from a distance…  
  
**Niall says:** I am so so sorry, love. I wish I could be there to help you.  
  
**Emilie says:** Nothing you can do. I’m going to bed. I can’t handle this shit right now.  
**Emilie says:** Sorry  
**Emilie says:** Goodnight  


She shuts her phone off before he can respond. Emilie knows she won’t sleep at all tonight, but lying alone in the dark is better than having to talk about the situation. She forces herself to her feet and turns off the kitchen and living room lights before sitting back down, tugging the throw blanket over her. She wonders how this even happened.


	13. thirteen.

“Happy birthday, wonderful dad of mine!”

Jackson’s soft chuckle crackles down the line, and Emilie does a small dance in her place at the victory. “Thanks, Emmy. I really enjoy being dragged away from a board meeting to have my daughter screaming ‘happy birthday’ at me.”

“You know damn well that you do. Board meetings are boring as Hell, and you know I make your life interesting.”

“You have since the day you was born, kiddo.” Her father pauses, and the sound of voices in the background fades. “So I heard about Danielle.”

“I… I don’t want to talk about her, Dad. What’s new with your life? How’s work?”

Emilie listens as her dad talks shortly about the new things his company has been doing, but it isn’t all that interesting to her. She just loves to hear his voice. Their contact has been sporadic at best over the last year, and it’s understandable - she’s had a full course load, and he has been going through a divorce. She still feels guilty, though, for having let the conversations dwindle instead of making time for him.

Emilie makes a mental note to call her mother later, since it has been over two weeks since they last spoke on the phone. Her thoughts are derailed, dragged away from listing out what they can talk about by her father clearing his throat and asking after her own life. She hesitates, picks at the seam of her pyjama pants.

“Not much. I haven’t done anything besides go to school, talk to my boyfriend, hang out with Derek and Monica. Y’know, the usual.”

“Back up, wait. _Boyfriend_? When did this happen?”

She huffs out an awkward laugh. “Uh, it’s been a few months. I, um, I actually went on vacation last month and spent a week at his place.”

“Let me guess, it’s that Niall kid.”

“It is, yeah.”

“He treatin’ you right?”

“Of course he is, Dad. He’s… he’s been nothing less but a gentleman,” she assures him, her cheeks flooding with warmth as she remembers the way it felt to have him moving inside of her, holding her close and kissing her breathless. “He’s really sweet. I think you’d like him.”

“What happened to him being just a friend?” Jackson asks lightly, and Emilie can hear the smile in his voice.

“That, well, that kinda went ass over teakettle, not gonna lie.”

“Ah, shit. Okay, Emmy, I gotta get back to the meeting. I’ll call you tonight. I wanna hear more about the kid who’s stolen my girl’s heart.”

“You’ll always be my number one guy, Dad, don’t worry ‘bout that.”

After exchanging _love you_s and _bye_s, Emilie hangs up with a wide grin on her face. Her dad has always been incredibly wonderful about her relationships - unlike her friends’ fathers, Jackson has never once threatened her boyfriends with bodily harm if she ended up with a broken heart. Her mother, on the other hand, is the complete opposite: She is vocal about her role as protector and boasts about being a mama grizzly.

Emilie frowns at her books and laptop. She doesn’t want to do her homework, but she also doesn’t want to fall behind in this class; struggling like she had last term is not something she wants to repeat. Dragging her stuff closer, Emilie brings up the Pandora app, changes to the Niall Horan station, and settles in to do her coursework while listening to the sultry beat of _Slow Hands_.

** **

**

… … … … … … … … …

**

** **

Emilie bites back another sigh when Ryder lets out an ear-piercing screech, leans down to pick him up and hold him to her chest. He’s been battling an ear infection for the last two days, and while a rotation of acetaminophen and ibuprofen takes away most of the pain for him, he has cried and screamed every time she puts him down. Tears sting at her eyes, and she sniffles as she starts rocking Ryder gently.

A knock sounds on the door, and she stares down at her godson. After very little hesitation or debate, she sets him down in his playpen, and he whimpers. Emilie shushes him and heads toward the door. She almost thinks she’s gotten away with it when he starts crying loudly. She feels like the absolute worst person in the world as she ignores it in favour of pulling the chain back and opening the door a crack.

“Niall isn’t here yet,” she says, unsurprised by the sight of the two men on the other side - this has been planned for the last few days - and Harry nods and shrugs. She sighs, steps back to let him and Louis in. “C’mon in.”

Both of the guys wince at a particularly loud shriek, and Emilie hurries to get Ryder back in her arms. He snuffles and buries his face into her neck, his cheeks sticky with tears and snot. Her hand instinctively rubs circles on her godson’s back, and she glances longingly at the door to her bedroom, desperate for sleep. She turns back to Niall’s friends. Louis avoids looking at her directly.

“You, er, have a little...something in your hair,” supplies Harry when she gives them a quizzical look.

She knows instantly what it is and sighs. She knows she doesn’t have the time right now ー or the ability to get more than five steps away from Ryder ー to shower, so everyone is just going to have to deal with it. Emilie gestures with her free hand toward the couch, sitting at one end with Ryder curled up against her chest, and leans her head back.

“Sorry I’m not much company today,” she whispers, “but Ry’s been dealing with an ear infection, so I’ve not gotten more than an hour or two of sleep in the last couple of days.”

Louis pats her knee. “No worries, love. Do you want us to watch him so you can take a shower or nap?”

“Nah, I’ll be okay. Just gotta get through today, and I’ll probably cave and let him sleep in my bed again. Maybe tonight’ll be different!” she announces in a falsely-cheery voice, not even believing herself; she knows the night will be just as awful and long as the last two.

The group sits in silence for a long while, and eventually, Emilie realises that Ryder has fallen asleep, his mouth ajar and drool slipping from the corner onto her skin. She grimaces but doesn’t move. Louis’s words come back to her, and she wonders if the child is in a deep enough sleep to not notice being transferred from her arms to his playpen. Biting her lip, she shifts slowly, gingerly, and rises to her feet. Ryder stirs, but his eyes stay closed. The adults all seem to hold their breaths as she carefully sets him down on the blankets and waits. Emilie feels like she’s going to cry when he snoozes on peacefully. She runs a finger over his cheek, red from the fever he’s been suffering from, then turns to Louis and Harry.

“Okay, I’m going to take a shower. I stink, I’m covered in bodily fluids from a sick toddler, and honestly? I just need a break. Niall should be here soon, so can one of you let him in?” At their nods, she rubs at her eyes. “All right. Thanks. If Ry wakes up, just… knock on the bathroom door or something to let me know.”

Emilie passes the remote to Harry with a warning to keep the volume low then makes her way to her bedroom. She doesn’t bother stopping to grab clothes, the idea of seclusion and hot water too tempting to want to delay it. After making sure both doors are closed tight, she twists the knob and strips as the water warms. Stepping under the spray feels like stepping into an entirely different world; she turns her face up to the showerhead and cries as two days’ worth of sweat and filth slip from her skin.

****

[…]

Niall knocks on the door and waits patiently. It doesn’t take long before he hears the lock sliding from place, and his lips curve into a smile as the door is pulled open. His grin falters when he sees Harry’s face instead of Emilie’s on the other side.

“Hey, mate. She’s in the shower.”

Ryder lets out a massive shriek from where he’s standing in his playpen, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks, and Niall steps inside and pushes the door closed, locking it quickly behind him. Emilie had warned him that Ryder was ill, which cut into their socialising because she was often too busy taking care of her godson to send texts. When the child sees Niall, his shrieks turn into babbling and more crying.

“Ni-ni, up! Ni!”

Louis is staring at the kid with an expression of fear on his face, and Niall rolls his eyes. Ryder’s cries get louder after a second, and Niall crosses the room quickly to scoop up the toddler. He hushes Ryder, holding him close enough that he can hear Niall’s heartbeat. Once the shrieking and sobbing has slowed, stopped, Niall turns to his friend.

“Lou, you have a child. What the hell, mate?”

“I haven’t ever had to deal with _this_,” he protests with a wild gesture to Ryder.

Niall presses his hand against Ryder’s cheek. It’s startlingly warm, so he makes his way to the kitchen to look at the dry-erase board that Emilie keeps on the wall. There’s a small list of times and letters: _7:30 I, 11:30 A, 3:30 I_ written on the board in her neat print, and Niall turns and finds two bottles of children’s medicine on the counter ー ibuprofen and acetaminophen. He double-checks the directions for the Tylenol then measures out the appropriate amount; Ryder doesn’t even fight him on swallowing it down, and Niall is surprised. His nephew always squalled and struggled against taking medication.

Once Ryder has a child’s cup of juice that Niall retrieves from the refrigerator, Niall settles in on the sofa with the child and slides his fingers through the sweat-matted hair. The shower is still running in the bathroom, the sound loud in the quiet of the apartment. Niall waits a few minutes then frowns. There have been plenty of times that Emilie has texted him a “brb” before she took a shower and been back within ten minutes; she said it was an after-effect of growing up with a big family.

“How long has she been in there?”

Harry and Louis exchange glances, and Niall’s concern grows when Louis checks his phone screen. When he says that it’s been forty-five minutes, Niall nods succinctly and pulls Ryder back enough to look in his eyes.

“Hey, bud. These are my friends. I promise they’re nice. Can I leave you with them while I go get Auntie Emilie?”

Ryder’s face screws up in consternation, but he doesn’t cry, just says in a wobbling voice “An’ Em?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get An’ Em. But you gotta let Hazza and Lou watch you for just a minute, okay?”

The child gives the other two suspicious looks but nods reluctantly. Niall sets him on the couch and stands, tousling Ryder’s hair before he walks away. He knocks lightly on the bathroom door, hesitates when there is no reply, then knocks louder, testing the knob at the resounding silence. He takes a step into the bathroom and closes the door behind him; he turns around and sees something through the slit between the curtain and the wall.

Emilie is sat on the floor of the shower, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. The water is still going, and minute shivers rock through her body as she sleeps. He rushes to the shower, slides the curtain back, and presses a hand against her skin. The spray from the water is ice-cold, and her flesh is barely any warmer. Niall hurriedly turns off the tap, reaches for a towel. Emilie doesn’t wake even as he drags her from the tub onto the mat on the floor. He scrubs at her body with the towel, trying to ignore how hard she’s trembling. If he focuses on that, his worry is just going to get worse. Eventually, she stirs, her eyes fluttering open, and she stares up at him in sleepy confusion.

“Niall? What…?”

“You fell asleep in the shower. Are you okay?”

She nods shakily and leans into him as he wraps a dry towel around her shoulders; he waits until her knees are pulled up to her chest before he pulls her closer. “I… I’m just so fucking tired. Danielle dropped Ry off almost three days ago and didn’t bother telling me he was sick, so I had to find out the difficult way that he has an ear infection, and I haven’t gotten much sleep. I’m, I’m tired.”

Niall’s brows furrow, and he bites back the anger that surges up at the mention of Emilie’s former stepsister. He knows very little about Danielle, but everything that Emilie has said involving Ryder’s mother has left a nasty impression. He helps Emilie to her feet and guides her to the bedroom, standing between her and the door so the others don’t see her. She sits on the end of the bed and sighs heavily, stares at her closet. The dark circles under her eyes seem to grow even darker, but Niall is sure it’s just a trick of the light. Instead of making her move, he heads to the dresser and pulls out underwear and a tank-top, then a pair of black-and-red sleep pants from the closet. She doesn’t even fight him as he helps her get dressed.

****

[…]

Emilie forces a smile at Niall’s concerned expression, but she knows it falls flat by the way he brushes her hair out of her face after fixing the straps of her top. She sits still as he brushes her hair gently; her vision blurs with hot tears at his gentleness, the care he’s showing her. She sniffles and closes her eyes. Ryder squeals from the living room, the sound causing her shoulders to slump. She feels like a terrible godmother ー she forgot about him. Niall scratches at her scalp softly, and she looks up at him.

“I can keep an eye on him if you want to take a rest.”

She shakes her head, wincing at the pounding that’s starting behind her eyes. “No, I… I can do it. Only a few more hours, and he’ll go to bed, right?”

He leads her back out to the living room, and Ryder screeches in delight when he catches sight of his An’ Em. Though she’s so, so, so exhausted, she feels her face split into a smile, and she scoops him up into her arms. The flush to his cheeks has disappeared with his rest, and she kisses her godson’s forehead softly. He isn’t nearly as warm as she feared he would be when she first got in the shower. She gives Niall a questioning look, and he shrugs.

“Figured you wouldn’t mind if I gave him some medicine since it was after the scheduled time.”

Her throat tightens, and all she can do is nod, touched by his consideration. She sits on the couch between Niall and Harry, leans into Niall’s side, and takes the proffered sippy cup from Louis’s hand. Ryder latches onto his cup, sucking greedily at the Pedialite that’s inside. Emilie listens to the guys talking amongst themselves, occasionally adding something to the conversation but mostly just enjoying the sound of them talking and their presence.


	14. fourteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this week is a special one! since my story _dreams unwind_ only has a couple more chapters until it's done, i've decided to do double-updates for all of my stories this week! so you'll be getting a chapter of this one today and tomorrow, and a chapter of _so long_ on thursday and friday!
> 
> this story and _sl_ would probably never have been posted or updated as regularly if it wasn't for Phoenixx90 - their never-ending supply of motivation and cheering me on has been such a help in keeping me inspired to write about these dumb characters of mine so... **_huge, enormous, heartfelt_** thanks to them!
> 
> ____________________

A knock on the door sounds after another half-hour, and Emilie glances over her shoulder toward the entryway. Her body yearns for sleep, and the thought of moving in any capacity is definitely not a pleasing thought. She knows remaining where she is isn’t possible, though, so she sighs heavily and pushes to her feet. Niall takes Ryder from her without hesitation, and she grabs her phone off the coffee-table and rounds the corner of the couch. She peeks through the peephole right as the visitor starts banging on the door with their fist. Cursing, she hurries back to the living room, snapping her fingers to get Niall’s attention.

“Don’t let Ry come in sight of the door. At all.”

He nods, scoots down on the couch so that he’s closer to the far wall, and she heads back to the door, pulling it open just enough to peer out at Danielle.

“Do you mind? I have neighbours.”

“Where’s my son?”

Emilie forces herself not to recoil in disgust at the alcohol on her former-stepsister’s breath or the skunky odour that comes off her in waves. “He’s sleeping.”

“Give him to me. We’re going home.”

“Uh, you may be, but he’s not going anywhere with you in this condition. As his godmother and his aunt, I’m not putting him in danger.”

“We’re not even related,” snaps Danielle, taking a step closer; Emilie’s grip on the door tightens as she prepares to slam the door in the other woman’s face. “Your dad divorced my mom, so he’s nothing to you.”

“You made me his godmother. We signed paperwork in front of a lawyer. I take my duties very seriously.”

“Fine. I’ll just call the cops.”

“Go ahead.”

Emilie pushes the door closed and makes sure the locks are engaged. Harry stands at the end of the entryway, brows pulled together over concerned eyes. She forces a smile but doesn’t say anything; if she opens her mouth, she might just cry. The door behind her back starts jolting with each impact of Danielle’s fist, and Emilie shuts her eyes against the yelling from the hallway and the crying from the living room. Taking a deep breath, she looks at Harry.

“Can… can you have Niall take Ryder into my bedroom?”

Harry nods and turns on his heel to pass the message along. Emilie watches as Niall pauses mid-step with Ryder in his arms, flashes her a reassuring smile, then continues on into the other room. The door clicks closed behind him. Louis and Harry stay out of sight, and Emilie has never been more grateful to anyone else for knowing what to do without her having to ask. Other voices join in the cacophony in the corridor, someone yelps, and she sighs, turning and unlocking the door. Her neighbour from across the hall has Danielle pinned to the floor on her belly, his lip oozing blood and Danielle shouting obscenities as she struggles.

Ten minutes later, four officers round the corner, and Emilie opens the door further to slip out of the apartment. John backs away from Danielle, holding his hands up in the air as he nears his own door. One of the cops clears away the bystanders, while another helps Danielle up off the ground. The one nearest Emilie turns to her.

“Why don’t you go on back inside, ma’am? We’ve got this handled.”

“She’s the one that has my baby, dumbass!”

The cop frowns, and his expression goes from friendly to guarded. “Okay, ma’am. How about we go inside and talk while my colleagues here get her side of the story.”

Emilie shrugs and leads him into the apartment. He carefully examines the entryway and room beyond as she closes the door behind them. Heart pounding in her chest, she hopes that Niall can keep Ryder entertained enough until everything calms down. This isn’t something the child needs to witness. He doesn’t need the scars from it. She sits shakily on the stool at the bar and laces her fingers together in her lap. The two young men sitting on the couch keep their gazes averted to the television, though Emilie isn’t quite sure how much attention they are actually giving to the show.

“All right. So what exactly is going on?”

She sighs, blowing out a breath. “Okay. That woman is my stepsister. Well, former stepsister. But she made me her son’s godmother when he was born a little over a year and a half ago. She dropped him off here three days ago and didn’t bother telling me he was sick, so I had to take him to the doctor to get antibiotics. Well, she just showed up twenty minutes ago reeking of pot and alcohol, demanding I give him to her so she could take him home. I’m his godmother, I couldn’t just let him go with her when she’s fu ー messed up like that. So I told her she couldn’t have him because it wasn’t in his best interest. It wasn’t safe for him. Now y’all are here.”

“I see.” The officer - Lawson, his nametag says - looks up from where he’s been writing in his small notebook. “Do you have any paperwork proving you’re his godmother?”

“Absolutely. Should I go get it, or?”

“I’d like to come with you, if that’s all right with you.”

Emilie slips off the stool, waves for the cop to follow, and taps gently on her bedroom door. Ryder is asleep, sprawled out on the bed, when she steps inside, and Niall gives her a small smile. He stays out of the way as Emilie ducks down to twist the dial on the safe under her desk, and the door swings open with a soft squeak. She grabs the file folder in question and flips through the pages until she comes to the contract. Officer Lawson takes the papers, flips through them as he scans the contents. Over the cop’s shoulder, she can see Louis and Harry craning their necks, trying to see what's going on from the living room.

“Do you have a copy of this so we can put it with our report?”

She takes the original back and hands over the copies. Officer Lawson nods succinctly then turns on his heel to make his way through the apartment. Danielle is seated on the floor in the hallway, arms behind her back, and her venomous glare could have stripped paint from steel when she looks up. Emilie pulls the door closed behind her, leans against the frame. The cops talk amongst themselves, and one of them gestures toward Danielle. Eventually, Officer Lawson steps away from the group.

“All right, Miss…?”

“Oh, uh, Ellis.”

“Okay. Miss Ellis, are you capable and willing to watch your godson until social services can be called?”

Emilie’s heart jumps into her throat, and she exhales shakily. “Yeah, absolutely.”

Danielle can be heard yelling all the way to the door to the parking garage; Emilie waits until she’s sure they’re gone before going back inside. Three young men stare expectantly at her when she enters the living room. She forces a smile and flops down onto the couch. Niall’s arms open immediately, and she leans heavily into his side, buries her face into his shoulder. The adrenalin from the encounter with Danielle and the officers has drained, and now, all she wants to do is go to sleep. Or cry. Or both. Niall seems to understand that, rubbing her back soothingly even as he distracts Louis and Harry from paying too much attention to how close her emotions are to bubbling over.

Thankfully, the guys accept it easily enough when she decides to take herself to bed around eight that night; Harry promises to keep the television volume quiet, and Emilie gives him a smile of gratitude before slipping into the bedroom. Niall follows closely behind. While she brushes her teeth, he shifts Ryder over in the bed to leave space for her, then waits until she’s back in the room to pull her into a tight embrace. Her breath comes out in a shuddering gust; he holds her through the sobs and hiccups, murmurs softly to her the entire time, and then pulls the blankets up over her and the child after she’s laid down. His lips are warm against her temple, and she barely gets the chance to murmur out a goodnight before she’s asleep.


	15. fifteen.

The silence of the bedroom is suffocating, but Emilie finds it oddly reassuring. The silence means that Ryder is still sleeping, that there is nothing that needs her attention right this minute. It also unfortunately means she has plenty of time to think over the last handful of weeks and everything they brought to her life.

Niall, Harry, and Louis hadn’t seemed to want to leave the day after Danielle’s arrest, but they all had their own lives to get back to. Emilie refused to be selfish, though, so she’d all but forced them out the door. She has called Niall every day since then; even when she has nothing to say, just hearing his voice is enough to settle the waves of insecurity she is bombarded with - doubts about whether she can actually care for Ryder the way he deserves, whether she can handle the stresses that come with a long-distance relationship especially with someone famous like Niall is... Listening to Niall speak about whatever is going on his life is calming, and she can only hope that she never loses him.

Harry has even sent a few text messages, though they don’t talk nearly as often as she does with her boyfriend. His are mostly just musings about random things, sent late at night when he can’t sleep, and by the time Emilie responds in the morning, Harry is already asleep or busy for the day. There hasn’t been any contact with Louis, but she never really expected any. As sweet as he is, Emilie has the distinct impression that he’s slower to warm to people than the others.

Her thoughts turn to her godson as she stares at him sleeping across the room. His birthday is in less than two weeks, and Emilie has literally no idea what she is going to do. Paige was the one who organised his first birthday party last year; all Emilie had to do was book a flight and show up, mingle with the guests and dote on the little boy. Now she’s the one in charge of planning everything, and that responsibility is daunting.

With a soft sigh, she pushes back her blankets and grabs her phone from the nightstand, unplugging it from the charging cable as she rolls out of bed. A shiver rips up her spine at the chill of the room. One thing she has never been able to find compliant with is how efficient the air con is in the flat. She makes her way out to the thermostat on quiet footsteps, adjusts the temperature, and scrolls through her contacts until she finds Paige’s name.

“Good morning, darling.”

“Heya, Mama. I’m so sorry it’s been a while.”

Paige laughs, the sound soothing in Emilie’s ear. “Honey, there’s nothing to apologise for. You’ve been taking care of that baby, so of course your time hasn’t been your own.”

“And you’re okay with that? That he stayed with me instead of coming to Corpus to be with you?”

“He saw more of you in a week than he’s seen of me in a year. If he came here, it woulda messed him up good, and you’ve always been so amazing with him. I trust you with his life, sweetheart, much more than I ever trusted Danielle.”

“Have you heard from her?” Emilie asks after a long moment.

“She called yesterday, said she was sorry about the situation she got herself into.”

Emilie snorts and rolls her eyes even though her former-stepmother can’t see. Shoving her hand through her hair, Emilie sets about making coffee. “‘Situation’? I think this is more than a situation.”

“I told her exactly that,” Paige says with a snort. “I told her that she was warned a long time ago that her decisions come with consequences, and the one who’ll pay the most is that darling child she brought into this world. She took it as me attacking and hung up on me, so who knows if she’ll actually listen.”

“Speaking of that darling child, his birthday is coming up. I feel like he’s still too little to go trick-or-treating - after all, he’s only turning two, which means it’ll be more for me than him - and I was wondering if you would want to come for the party.”

“Oh, absolutely, Em. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good. So, uh, what the hell should I do?”

Paige stifles her chuckles and launches into giving advice for an age-appropriate birthday party. The only goal for Ryder’s first birthday was for him to make a mess and have fun, but now that he’s a little older, he would do well with being more stimulated. Emilie takes notes as Paige talks, but half of her mind is lamenting the fact that only three people will be here for the toddler - not one of them his mother. How much fun could he possibly have without friends his age?

“Mam?”

Emilie turns her head to see Ryder in the doorway, rubbing at his sleepy eyes with the back of his fist, and she opens her arms. He smiles widely and toddles to her, launches himself into her hold. Paige’s words cut off immediately, and Emilie kisses her godson’s hair before bringing her phone closer to him. His eyes widen when he sees the picture on the screen.

“Yeah, it’s your Mamaw. Say hi!”

“Is that the man of the hour?”

“Mam!”

Emilie sits back, listens as Ryder gibbers animatedly to his grandmother. She’s missed being able to talk to Paige freely; nowadays, it seems like all of their conversations have circled back to Danielle’s current mistakes. Emilie has to admit that if she thinks about it now, she’ll be able to recall just when the topic of discussion began to revolve around her stepsister. It was shortly after Danielle graduated from high school, exerting her newfound freedom by doing whatever sounded fun to her regardless of how it might affect her life. Emilie has watched Danielle make mistake after mistake after mistake, hurt their parents so many times over the years, and vowed to never follow in her footsteps.

“Lucy, I’m home!”

“Damn it. Hey, Derek. Ry, please stop.”

“You have a package.”

“Set it on the counter.” Emilie groans when Ryder squirms out of her hands, starts running around the apartment naked as the day he was born and squealing excitedly. Derek lunges forward and scoops him up easily, carrying him back to his exasperated aunt. “Thanks. Ryder Alexander, let me dress you so you can be presentable for when Mamaw gets here.”

“Mam here?”

“Yeah, but if you keep being naked, she ain’t gonna wanna come. So what’s it gonna be, munchkin?”

He purses his lips, brows drawing together over his eyes, before shrugging. “D’ess.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Ryder fidgets but stops fighting her as she diapers and clothes him. The instant she’s buttoned his jeans and dropped her hands, he scurries towards the toy bin and loses himself in yanking out various toys, letting them fall to the floor with loud clatters. Emilie sighs, watching him for a second, then climbs to her feet.

The countertop is bare when she turns around, and she frowns at Derek. He points toward the entry hall; an Amazon box sits just out of view, and she nudges it with her feet toward the living room. Her best friend hands her a knife and stands just behind her as she cuts through the tape. Thankfully, Ryder is sufficiently distracted with his playthings that he doesn’t notice what is inside the package. The tag attached to one of the bags catches her eye, and she reads it quickly. With a quiet huff of laughter, Emilie pulls her phone from her back pocket.

  
**Emilie says:** Did you REALLY send Ry birthday presents???  
**Emilie says:** Babe, you didn’t have to do that omg.  
**Emilie says:** Seriously. I can't believe you did that.  
  
**Niall says:** I was just about to ask if you received it yet ! I got the notification that it was delivered to your door but I wasn’t sure if you were busy  
**Niall says:** I know I didn’t have to get him anything but I wanted to . He’s an amazing little boy who deserves nice things. I figured he might like these  
  
**Emilie says:** You are seriously amazing. Thank you! I’ll put them in the pile for him to open once his grandmother gets here. And don’t worry - I’ll send you pictures :)  
**Niall says:** I would appreciate that  


Emilie is pulled away from the text conversation by a knocking on the door, but nothing can diminish the heady warmth that’s blossomed in her chest. Niall cared enough to remember Ryder’s birthday and get him presents? The monetary value means little - Niall could have handmade a card and sent that instead - but the fact that he even put thought towards Ryder is just... amazing. She’s known he is literally one of the most generous, wonderful, caring men she will ever know in her life, and this only solidifies that in her mind and heart.

The gifts from Paige, Derek, and Emilie - a pretend set of house-cleaning supplies, a large look-and-find book geared towards toddlers, and an adjustable child-sized easel, respectively - go largely forgotten in the wake of Ryder opening the ones that Niall sent. Emilie is in awe at how perfect they are for the child: The mess-free colouring book and markers alone are right up his alley, and the spiky rubber balls that light up and flash in a variety of colour entertain him as soon as Derek squeezes them to activate the lights. She sets the sticker book about the animal kingdom aside. The last thing he needs right now is total freedom with stickers.

“Who are you texting?” Paige asks once Ryder is sat in his high-chair to demolish a piece of his Paw Patrol cake. “Is it that someone who sent Ry such wonderful presents?”

“How do you know I didn’t just go overboard?”

“Emilie Taylor, you should know better than to try to keep something from me.”

Derek snorts and flashes Emilie an impish grin. “Yeah, Emma-bean, you shouldn’t keep things from your mama.”

“You’re not helping, D. Fine. It’s, uh, my boyfriend.”

Paige listens intently as Emilie gives her the basic information about her relationship with Niall. She doesn’t mention his job, just that he travels for work and came through Austin about seven months ago and that they met in the coffeeshop. She trails off in the middle of describing the wonderful week she spent with him when her phone vibrates in her hand. Niall’s contact photo fills the screen, and her heart races in her chest. She sees the way Paige and Derek exchange knowing looks with each other, but she ignores them in favour of answering the FaceTime call.

“Lemme guess, you wanna talk to the birthday boy.” Niall’s grin is answer enough, and Emilie giggles softly and shakes her head. “Of course. He’s most important today. But hi, it’s nice to see your face.”

“Hi, love. I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m done talking to my bud.”

Emilie smiles, leans the phone against the paper towels so that Ryder and Niall can see each other without risking getting frosting and cake all over the device, and sits back to watch two of her favourite dudes chatting. Paige squeezes her shoulder gently; Emilie takes it for the approval she knows it is. Ryder is a good judge of character, despite his age, and the fact that he is so willing and _excited_ to chatter on is the biggest endorsement Niall could ever receive.


	16. sixteen.

Emilie sighs, wipes her hands on the dishtowel as she makes her way to the door. It’s not even six in the morning - no one should be here yet. Derek grins brightly at her, pushing past her. She laughs quietly, locks the door, and follows him into the kitchen area. He sets the dish in his hands on the counter and turns to face her.

“What do you need me to do?”

“I… have no fucking idea.” She runs a hand through her hair, staring around at the half-started meals littering the countertops. “Derek, why did I do this?”

“Do what?” he asks over his shoulder as he moves things around in the fridge.

“Offer to cook a Thanksgiving dinner. I’m going to fuck it all up. I know I am.”

“Calm down, Emma-bean. You’re gonna rock this. Trust me.”

Emilie forces herself to take a deep breath, tries to believe her best friend. But it’s hard. The last few years have been spent with just her and Derek and now Ryder, but this year, she invited Niall and his friends. She wants this dinner to be perfect. Ryder deserves his first actual Thanksgiving to be a good one, and she can’t bear the thought of being humiliated in front of her boyfriend. If Derek was the only guest, they would be able to laugh off any mishaps, get drunk and forget that dinner was ruined. That isn’t an option now.

“What if it sucks?” she whispers after a moment, and Derek faces her, places his hands on her shoulders. “If this isn’t perfect…”

“Look, if somehow everything goes wrong, well, Ry is too young to remember, we have plenty of wine and whisky, and Niall is obviously head over heels for you, so he won’t give a damn. All he’ll be is happy that he got to spend time with you. As for whoever he brings… Em, you’ve told me how awesome his friends are, so they’re not going to care or judge you, either.”

She exhales slowly then sets about getting the food ready. She and Derek work in silence; he focuses on the turkey and ham, while Emilie mixes together the ingredients for green bean casserole, cornbread, and scalloped potatoes. After everything is in the double-oven, she can breathe easier. It is barely past seven-thirty in the morning, but she pours herself a glass of wine anyway then heads to her room to get dressed. Usually, she’s stuck to leggings and a loose top, but today, with the promise of seeing Niall and his friends, she decides on a plum-coloured wrap dress that falls to her mid-thighs and sheer tights. Her fingers tremble slightly as she works the clasp on the necklace that Niall bought for her, the opal pendant settling against her skin just above the swell of her breasts.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind her, and Emilie turns to see Ryder clambering out of his bed. All the anxiety and worries that she has been struggling with since she woke up at four melt away at the brilliant, face-scrunching smile he gives her. She scoops him up into her arms, kissing his cheek over and over until he squeals in delight, then sets him back on his feet. He toddles out of the room, and Emilie follows, grabbing a diaper from the shelf as he lies on the floor. Once he’s in a fresh diaper and his outfit for the day, Ryder makes his way to the bin in the corner, drags out the building blocks.

Derek has pulled the bottle of Jack from the freezer; the glass is frosted over, but Emilie can see it’s still mostly full. Three bottles of different types of wine surround the whisky, and he’s already grabbed down enough glasses to inebriate a small army. She finishes down the last mouthful of wine in the bottom of her glass, handing it to her best friend for a refill. He does that as she double-checks that the timer is going then carries her glass to the living room to watch Ry play.

“I’ll get it!”

Emilie shushes Derek but can’t do more than hiss at him, too busy pulling the casserole from the oven. He mutters under his breath as he heads to the door, though what he says, she can’t hear. She ignores him, sets the dish on the stovetop then tosses the dishtowel aside. Derek has evidently warned the newcomers that Ryder is napping, because they’re all whispering when they enter the kitchen.

Emilie lets out a small squeak of surprise when warm lips press to her cheek. She glances over her shoulder to see Niall standing there, grinning widely. She holds up a finger, turning back to the pot of boiling water and macaroni noodles, and gives it a quick stir; Niall’s arms immediately come up to wrap around her, pull her close, when she pivots to face him. Derek snorts in amusement from across the kitchen, but she ignores him in favour of kissing her boyfriend, relishing the taste of him over the moscato that’s on her tongue.

With a sigh, Emilie pulls away. The macaroni is the last dish to be cooked, and she really doesn’t want to mess it up. A quiet whimper comes from the bedroom; she curses and takes a step, but Niall shakes his head.

“You keep doing that, I can get him.”

“You sure?”

He nods, kisses her again, and her head spins by the time they part. Emilie doesn’t get the chance to say anything before he’s gone. She huffs out a laugh and focuses on cooking. Once the pasta is drained, Emilie calls out for someone to hand her the milk and bags of shredded cheese from the fridge. Mully does as asked, stands by her shoulder and watches as she adds sharp cheddar, parmesan, and colby-jack to the elbow macaroni.

No one speaks as Derek makes a plate for Ryder or as they load up their own dishes, except to ask each other for a serving of this or a scoop of that. Emilie stands back out of the way while her friends get what they want, and there’s a peacefulness that wraps itself around her heart. The food looks and smells delicious, nothing was visibly ruined - though whether it tastes okay is a different story. She’s just placed a slice of ham on her plate when someone groans from the living room.

“Holy fuck, Em, you’ve outdone yourself.”

Her face heats up with the compliment, and she waves a hand at Derek. The discomfort only grows when the others chime in with more praise. Niall pats the couch next to him when she enters the living room; Emilie is almost surprised to see Ryder’s high-chair right beside the sofa and that he’s already stripped down to just his diaper. She leans against Niall once she’s sat, kisses his cheek.

The television flickers on, and within seconds, the Pandora logo fills the screen before disappearing, replaced by an album cover. Harry perks up at the opening guitar riff for _Edge of Seventeen_. Emilie eats quietly even as the others laugh and talk amongst themselves, occasionally singing along to whatever song comes on. Mully asks why they aren’t watching any games, and Derek frowns. Before he can answer, Emilie laughs and explains that he’s vehemently against sports since he got kicked off the baseball team in high school. That leads Derek into sighing and telling the story of why it happened. Emilie knows this tale, word for word, but she still winces when Derek reaches the part where Mike decided to swing a bat at his head and it caused a massive brawl amongst the players.

Hours pass with the easy camaraderie between the group. Ryder doesn’t even whine when Niall cleans him up, and Emilie marvels at the comfortable way that the toddler has taken to her boyfriend. Harry, Mully, and Derek start packing away leftovers and washing the dishes, but she watches as Niall changes Ryder’s diaper and dresses him again. When he finishes, his brows furrow when he catches her staring at him. She shakes her head at his unasked question, reaches out for Ryder. He comes easily, laying his head against her collarbone as soon as her arms are wrapped around him.

“Hi, little dude. Didja like dinner? Was it yummy?”

“Um um um!”

“Yum yum! Wanna colour for a bit?”

“No. I sit Ni-Ni.”

“Does Niall even want you sitting on him?”

Ryder gives her a flat look, lips pursed and nose scrunched. “Yes.”

“What do you think, Niall?”

“Ah, I think I can handle my little bud sitting on me.”

Emilie passes Ryder back to Niall then stands. She cards her fingers through her boyfriend’s hair as she passes. Derek stops her before she can step foot into the kitchen.

“No, you go. You cooked, we’ve got this, so you just go sit on your pretty little ass and drink some wine.”

She shakes her head but does as ordered, making sure to fill a glass for Niall, too. There’s an odd expression on his face, but he shrugs when she asks quietly if he’s okay. Her brain automatically replays the last two minutes, and she sighs as she understands why his mood has suddenly changed. She sets her glass on the coffee-table, sliding off the couch to sit behind Niall, her legs stretched out next to his. She rests her cheek against his shoulders, wraps her arms around his waist.

“Only you, babe,” she reminds him softly, and the tension bleeds from his muscles.

Neither of them move even when they hear the sound of a camera shutter, but Emilie calls out a demand for that photograph to be in her inbox immediately. Harry laughs and promises it’s on its way. Eventually, her lower back starts to hurt from sitting on the floor, so she leans up to press her lips to the back of Niall’s neck, murmuring _Only you_ into his skin, before she pushes herself to her feet.

Derek grabs the blankets from the closet, passing them to Harry and Mully, and Emilie says goodnight, ducks into her bedroom. Ryder sleeps peacefully on his cot, and she stops to stare down at his angelic face then continues on to her dresser. After grabbing a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized T-shirt, she turns back to her bed. Niall steps into the room, closing the door behind him. His hands instantly come up to cup her jaw, and she breathes in the scent of his cologne and the whisky he’s drank.

“I’m sorry I got jealous.”

“Don’t be, sweets. I understand.” She pauses, stepping closer so that their mouths are a hair’s width apart; her lips catch on his as she whispers, “If I remember correctly, the last time you got jealous, we had mind-blowing sex.”

“We did.”

No more words are spoken as she closes the minuscule gap between them, and her body ignites with the surge of want. Emilie links their fingers together, tiptoeing backwards toward the bathroom. Niall follows blindly; once she has both doors shut, she locks them and turns on the light. His eyes are dark with lust, and he exhales sharply when she unwraps her dress, lets it pool on the floor at her feet. The kiss they share is bruising, demanding - it steals the breath from her lungs and sets her nerves aflame.

It’s an awkward thing to start up the shower, but she manages it in between darting back in for kissing and touching, tasting. Niall helps her over the ledge of the bathtub, crowding her against the wall and capturing her mouth with his. His hands leave burning paths of need as they skim over her skin, and Emilie shivers at the slight pinch when he rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, his touch light as a feather over her breast; she wraps a leg around his waist, murmuring a _please don’t stop_ against his lips, and he growls low in his throat before shifting his stance, lines himself up. Her back arches, body screaming for more, but he keeps his movements slow, methodical, tantalising, no matter how much she begs and pleads - and she does.

Niall presses a kiss to Ryder’s forehead, running his hand over the toddler’s soft hair, then turns his attention to Emilie. She leans forward to meet him in the middle, hopes he can understand what she’s feeling as she kisses him. He pulls away looking a little dazed, and she takes it as a victory even while her heart breaks in her chest. Harry hugs her as well as he can with a child in the way; Mully does the reasonable thing and waves from the entryway. Emilie follows her boyfriend and friends to the door, watches them disappear around the corner.

“I think Thanksgiving was a success,” Derek announces from the couch.

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“Y’all aren’t quiet, by the way. We totally knew you two were getting nasty in the shower last night.”

Emilie’s cheeks burn, and she scowls at her friend. “Sh. Ry doesn’t need to hear that.”

“Neither did we, but what can ya do.”

“Derek.”

“Sorry, sorry. Was something bothering him yesterday? Niall, I mean. He just seemed... off after dinner.”

She hesitates then sets Ryder down by his toy bin; Derek moves his leg so Emilie can flop down onto the couch next to him. She wonders if she will be overstepping her bounds to tell him; she dismisses the thought, it’s Derek, after all. So she explains about Niall’s jealousy, the way it rears its ugly head on occasion. Derek frowns, runs a hand through his hair.

“I didn’t mean to make him jealous,” he says softly. “I guess I’m just used to the way our friendship works, and it’s habit by now.”

“I get that. So does he, I think. It’s just hard on him because we don’t get to spend a lot of time together, whereas you and I see each other almost every day.”

“Should... should we stop?”

“I have no idea,” Emilie admits, and they fall silent with the confession. She can’t help but wonder what she’d do if she was made to choose between her two favourite men. The fact that she doesn’t know is terrifying in itself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter would have been great to be posted on thanksgiving, yeah? 😂 the story of derek getting into a fight with a teammate because they swung a bat at his head? not merely fiction, made up for a story - it happened to me when i was a kid playing baseball with the neighbourhood kids (don’t worry - I won that fight along with the grand prize of a massive headache and spectacular bruise for a two weeks. i probably should have gone to hospital, now that i think about it...)


	17. seventeen.

“Louis says he’s sorry to have missed Thanksgiving,” Niall comments idly, and Emilie snorts and drops a detergent pod into the washing machine basin. “I _might_ have boasted about how great the food was. A lot.”

“Niall! That’s so mean.”

“Hey, I invited him. It’s his fault for not accepting.”

“Still mean of you to do. So… the food was good?”

Thankfully, Niall understands the hesitation in her voice, but he doesn’t rush to assure her. His words sound natural, easy, and the knot of tension in her chest loosens. She’s honestly doubted that everything was as delicious as they claimed just a few days ago on the holiday - they could have just been trying to make her feel better in light of the fact that she spent that entire morning cooking and fretting. Now, without the stresses of that day and the anxiety about it being perfect, it’s easier for Emilie to believe Niall when he tells her that everything was wonderful.

She dumps the clothes from the hamper into the machine, presses the start button, and pulls the sliding doors closed to block out at least some of the noise as water cascades into the machine. She knows she should be trying to sleep, considering it’s nearly midnight, and Ryder wakes up far too early for her to have late nights any more. But she makes her way to the sofa instead of her bed. She doesn’t want to end the call, to have to say goodnight to the man that she’s beginning to see a future with.

Niall is already busy again with his career now, and Emilie is well aware that it is going to cut into their time for conversations. She has no doubts whatsoever about whether they will manage to make it work through everything, but she also knows it is going to be incredibly difficult. The last two days have been made easier with sporadic texts - he hasn’t been able to call as he normally does. Emilie understands. She doesn’t doubt his feelings for her or anything like that, she understands the lack of contact is because of his job and nothing more, but she hates the distance between them, both physical and metaphorical. The only things that keep her going are the random selfies he sends, the way he conveys that he cares in his texts even when he doesn’t come out and say it directly, and the photo that is now her phone’s wallpaper.

The picture has always been any of a hundred of Ryder since the day he was born. Emilie has never found anyone or anything more important than him, so she’s given him that place of honour over and over without hesitation. But now, the picure that Derek took is the first thing she sees when she unlocks her phone: Taken Friday morning as Niall, Mully, and Harry were leaving, when her boyfriend was saying his goodbyes, she and Ryder are staring at him as if he hung the stars in the sky, and the expression on his face is no different. It should terrify her, really, how quickly he’s become one of the few people she knows she can’t live without. Instead of being frightened, though, she is thrilled. Hopeful.

Eventually, she know it’s time to say goodnight, so she does with extreme reluctance. She would feel bad about monopolising his free time for so long if he didn’t sound just as unwilling to hang up. She stares down at the call history log for a long moment once his contact picture disappears, then pushes to her feet. She hurriedly goes through her nighttime routine and hesitates at the foot of her bed.

Ryder is sprawled across the mattress, having crawled onto her bed sometime in the last two hours. Emilie smiles softly at the sight, opens her camera. Surprisingly enough, the flash doesn’t wake him. He snores on quietly, and she attaches the photo to a new message to Niall, typing out a caption of _Be so much better if you were here, too xxxx_.

Emilie has just gotten Ryder bundled up in his jacket and boots on an early Monday morning in December when a knock sounds at the door. She sighs, crossing her eyes at the little boy; he giggles wildly as she heads to the entry hall. Ginny stands just outside the front door, her pink-painted lips already twisted into a sympathetic smile. Emilie’s heart clenches, breath hitching in her throat. She steps back to let the social worker in.

“Good morning, Mister Ryder. And how are we today?” Ryder doesn’t answer, but Ginny doesn’t seem to have expected anything different. She turns to Emilie. “I know I usually give you warning whenever I’m coming, unless it’s a surprise inspection, but I just got word on my way to the office that the court date has been set.”

Emilie’s jaw drops, and she walks backwards until she can sit on the stool. “When is it?”

“Everything is right here.” Ginny passes over a sheet of paper. “I know the prosecutor is going to contact you, but I figured it would be best if you had as much of a heads-up as possible. Any luck on the bed situation?”

“I, uh, I’ve been looking for a new apartment since he’ll need his own room, but not yet.”

Ginny nods succinctly, digs through her purse before pulling out a stack of cards held together with a rubber-band. She peels one from the pile and sets it on the counter next to Emilie’s elbow. “Call this place, tell them a friend referred you. They’ll get you the help you need. Now, I have to go, but please keep me updated on any new developments on your end, and I’ll do the same to you.”

The social worker leaves as quickly as she arrived, and Emilie stares at the floor in shock. She knew it was only a matter of time before Danielle’s case would be brought before a judge, but that close to Christmas? Swallowing thickly, she calls for Ryder. He toddles over and grins up at her, cheeks flushed from wearing a jacket in a warm flat. She grabs her keys and bag, leads him out into the corridor. He waits patiently as she locks the door behind them.

Thankfully, the appointment doesn’t take long once she and Ryder are back in the examination room. Emilie bites back her own tears when Ryder screeches; she hates that he’s hurting, but vaccinations are important, so she hides her own pain at seeing him so miserable and cuddles him close, whispers encouragement in his ear until the nurse is finished. He buries his tear-stained face into her neck and cries, and Emilie swallows thickly, rubs her hand across his back.

“You did so good, bud, Auntie Em is so proud of how much of a big boy you are. I know, it hurts, but you’ll be healthier. Good job, Ry.”

“Any news on her?” Lira asks quietly; everyone in the office knows of the situation with Danielle - it’s impossible for them to not considering it has been Emilie bringing the boy in for whatever reason more than it has his mother.

“Court in a couple weeks, and I guess we’ll figure it out from there.”

“Sometimes, I wonder why God would ever have given that darling child to her, but you’re doing a wonderful job caring for him. Hey, Ryder? We got new Paw Patrol stickers in. You wanna get a couple before you head off?”

“Yes,” the boy mutters petulantly, and Emilie stifles a laugh at his pout.

“Well, come on, kiddo. We’ll grab a sticker then go see Derek and Monica for some coffee.”

“I coffee?”

“Yeah, why not.”

Ryder seems to have forgotten all about the jabs by the time Emilie parks in the car park of the coffeeshop. He shifts the sticker in his hand around, squealing when the glitter on it catches the sunshine just right and sparkles brightly. She unbuckles him quickly, scoops him out of the car. His fingers cling tightly to the sticker as she carries him inside. Monica barely gets the cup in her hand passed to the customer before she’s hurrying around the counter to pluck Ryder from Emilie’s arms.

“Hey, excuse me! If you’ve got him, who’s gonna get me my extra-needed caffeine?”

“You practically live here, make it yourself.”

Emilie snorts in amusement, making her way down the short hall to the door that leads to the kitchen. She knocks lightly then sticks her head around the door. Emmett glances up from where he’s preparing danishes, grins widely when he sees her.

“Hey, Em! How are you today?”

“Hey, Em. So, uh, we have a minor issue. Ryder has stolen Monica’s attention, which normally, I don’t mind, _but_ I really need the coffee this morning, so I’ll be making my own.”

“You injure yourself -”

“I know, pretend it happened elsewhere because your insurance doesn’t cover the stupidity of someone who decided they were smart enough to operate machinery.”

Emmett’s laugh is loud, boisterous, over the strain of Journey playing on the radio. “Attagirl. Tell Mon that the pastries will be right out.”

“Thanks, Emmett, you’re the best.”

Coffee in hand with minimal troubles, Emilie heads to the table where Monica and Ryder are talking animatedly to each other - or, rather, Monica is _ooh_ing and _ahh_ing over the sticker that Ryder is practically shoving in her face. Emilie sits across from the child and watches him interact, seemingly unaffected by the fact that he hasn’t seen his mother in almost three months. She opens her mouth to say something, but her words are interrupted by her phone vibrating in her hand.

_Niall Love_. Emilie frowns and murmurs that she’ll be back. She waits until she is outside in the brisk morning air to press the Accept button. She brings the phone to her ear, confused but so ready to hear her boyfriend’s voice.

“Hey, babe, isn’t it, like, seven in LA? Why aren’t you still sleeping?”

“Move in with me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoomp, there it is.


	18. eighteen.

“Excuse me?”

“Move in with me.”

“Niall, wh-what are you talking about?”

His sigh crackles down the line, and Emilie chews on her lower lip and steps out of the way of an older woman approaching the door. Heart pounding beneath her ribs, Emilie makes her way on shaky knees to the table at the end of the sidewalk, sits in the cold metal chair. She doesn’t know what has brought this on, why he’d ask her to move in now of all times.

“I want… fuck, okay, I was sleeping as people normally do at night, and I had the most amazing dream. You lived here with me, and we, we were _happy_. Em, it was - it was so realistic that when I woke up, I was honestly upset that it wasn’t real. It hurt that it was nothing more than a dream. So this is me asking you to move in with me.”

Emilie swallows down the tears that threaten to break free; her voice shakes, though she tries to keep it steady, as she says, “Niall, we’ve only been dating for five and a half months.”

“True, but, Emilie, we’ve known each other for so much longer.” She can see in her mind the pleading expression on his face, mixed with the nervousness that echoes down the line. His accent is thick, though she has no idea if it’s the remnants of sleep or if it is because of something more, something emotional. “We became friends nine months ago, and we’ve been sleeping together for eight of those months. A-and didn’t we learn that we work?”

“It was a week, babe,” she counters, laughing weakly, and god, does it hurt to be making this argument. “It wasn’t forever, and it’s not exactly enough time to figure that out.”

“Did you have _any_ doubts about how well we got on?”

Emilie blows out a breath - she hadn’t. She still doesn’t, not really. The only doubts she has is of her own issues: Him being so far away means that he isn’t always inundated by the pressures and responsibilities of being a stand-in parent; he doesn’t have to struggle with the whims, the tantrums, the difficulties of raising a toddler, and he certainly has no neglectful former-stepsister to battle with when it comes to said child. The reality of the situation is so very different up close, and what if it’s too much for him to handle?

A tear slides down her cheek as her thoughts move from the worries she carries to what it could be like living with him. Being with him regularly without this distance between them. Waking up every single morning in his bed and falling asleep every night in his arms. Her mind fights against itself - one part screaming to jump on this opportunity, whereas the logical part tells her that she shouldn’t do this without any forethought.

“You’re right. I didn’t doubt us. But… I need to think about this. I mean, I can’t make any kind of decision right now anyway, not until after Danielle’s hearing. Once I know what’s going to happen with her and Ryder, I-I’ll be able to make up my mind then.”

“I don’t expect an answer right now,” he rushes to assure her, and she huffs out a laugh - of course he is going to be patient after turning her world sideways with his post-dream request. “Take your time, there is no rush. I just, I just thought I’d be upfront and honest about what I wanted.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ve gotta get back inside. Monica is entertaining Ryder at the moment, but she has to get to work. I’ll call you later?”

“Sounds good to me, love.”

Emilie hangs up and stares at her phone screen. This morning has been nothing but surprise after surprise, and she is terrified to find out what else is in store. Any more unexpected events, and she thinks she might actually freak out. She types out a message to Derek, hands trembling as she sends the text off. Monica looks up once Emilie steps back into the coffeeshop, and her brows draw together.

“Bean? What happened?”

“I... he asked me to move in with him.”

“Don’t leave,” Monica orders when the bell over the door jingles and another patron walks in. “We’re so talking about this.”

Emilie obeys; she absentmindedly listens to Ryder as he plays with the crusts of a danish, crashing them into each other as if they were Matchbox cars. His face is covered with cherry glaze and cream cheese, but she can’t find it in her to care. All she gives a damn about is the fact that he’s happy, his eyes shining with the carefree joy of being in one of his favourite places and having fun. She exhales tremulously, swipes a finger under her eyes.

Monica rejoins a few minutes later, passing a muffin across the table to Emilie. “D is supposed to be here in, like, five, but I’m too impatient to wait for the details. He asked you to move in.”

“Yeah. Like, as soon as I answered the call. It was literally the first thing he said: ‘Move in with me.’”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him it was kinda nuts. Well, no, I didn’t. But I did point out we’d only been dating for a little over five months, which... it _is_. It’s nuts! He said we’ve known each other for nine and refused to accept that a week-long stint at playing house isn’t enough time to know for sure whether we’d work out living together.”

“Oh, honey.” Monica peels Emilie’s hands away from the pastry she’s currently tearing apart in her nervousness. Her dark eyes are full of sympathy when Emilie meets her gaze. “You guys have made it work so far, with the distance and the conflicting schedules and everything. Living with him would only make it easier, right?”

“Maybe? I dunno. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Like I told him, I can’t make any decisions until after the court date, but if Danielle is allowed custody, I... I can’t go. I won’t be able to leave Ry.”

“He’ll understand.”

Emilie snorts derisively and chokes on the mouthful of coffee in result. Coughing harshly, she waves off Monica’s concern. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because that boy is heads over heels for you, if he’s been so patient with the fact that Ryder will always come first for you. How many calls have you had to cancel to care for little dude here? And when you were with Niall, how often did you FaceTime Ryder, and Niall didn’t do anything but give you space so you could talk without an audience? He came over on Thanksgiving and took care of Ry while you cooked. He helped you take care of Ry when he was sick. I know literally no other dude who would do half that shit for someone they were sleeping with, let alone whether they loved them or not.”

“I can’t leave Ryder.”

“So tell Niall. Let him know, and you two can figure out what to do next. Okay?”

“I can do that.”

Derek has much the same reaction when he shows up and Emilie explains what’s going on, though he makes it clear that Emilie will be making a mistake if she tells Niall no. His expression softens, and she knows that the mixed-up things she is feeling are more than evident on her face. He pokes the tip of her nose, grabs her hand across the table. Her lip quivers though she tries to smile as steadily as possible.

“Go call your man, girl. Make sure he knows that you’re in love with him but just need some time.”

“He knows I need some time,” Emilie retorts before her brain catches up and registers what he’s said. “You’re a fucking sneak.”

“It’s because I know you so well. Now sh, go.”

Emilie laughs softly, shaking her head, and pushes to her feet. Derek stays with Ryder while she carries the plate to the rubbish bin and dumps the muffin bits. She sets the plate on the cart, ducks behind the counter to hug Monica tightly, and whispers a fervent _Thank you_ in her ear. She still has a lot to think about, but she knows she can count on her two best friends whenever she hits a wall and can’t see past her own mind.

Ryder whines but lets Emilie scoop him up into her arms, and he waves over her shoulder as she carries him out to the car. All that was on their schedule for the day has been done, so her only plan for the day is to distract herself. If she is honest with herself, her friends are right: Living with Niall could only help their relationship to grow more, and... she wants that. She _really does_.

But packing up and leaving Ryder behind isn’t an option, not one she can live with. It might be self-centred, but she knows she is the only reason he’s thriving as much as he is. Sure, if Danielle loses all rights to him, he would go into foster care, where he might have a shot at having a good life, or he would go to Paige who would do her damnedest to protect him and raise him right. Being so far from him, though, the thought alone terrifies Emilie.

Somehow, she manages to get through the day without crumbling under the weight of her thoughts, and she finds herself sitting on the couch in the dark once she puts Ryder to bed. The card Ginny gave her scratches her bare leg as Emilie flips it over and over; she can’t help but wonder if this means the social worker fully expects that Emilie will be able to keep guardianship of Ryder, or if it’s a sign of her doubts that Danielle will be able to clean up her life enough to be a fit mother and therefore put Emilie in the position of second-mommy again. Emilie isn’t quite sure which scenario she prefers - she knows that the one where Ryder is well taken care of, protected from harm no matter who intends to cause it… that’s the one she wants for him, but should it be her?


	19. nineteen.

The next two weeks fly by. Between her mind constantly dwelling on Niall having asked her to move and the court date that looms ever closer, Emilie has barely any time to herself that isn’t filled with panic and never-ending questions. Ryder keeps her busy, but he isn’t a very good distraction. Maybe when he’s older and can talk in more than disjointed sentences, but right now, all he requires is for her to prevent him from doing something stupid and reckless that might kill him and put food in his belly.

The night before the court date, Emilie goes to bed as soon as Ryder is asleep, but she doesn’t sleep for hours after. She tries, harder than she ever has before, to no avail. All she ends up doing is tossing and turning and struggling not to let herself spiral into the thoughts. Her chest aches with the potential of tomorrow, no matter how hard she forces the nightmarish hell from her mind. She watches as Ryder sleeps, thankful that he is blissfully unaware of what the next day is going to bring.

  
**Niall Love says:** Are you nervous ?  


Emilie snorts quietly, but Niall’s question lingers in her mind. Is she? Of course she is. There is so much that could go wrong tomorrow - Ryder could go into foster care, Danielle could get custody of him again and move far away so that Emilie will never see him again… Either way, Emilie could lose the one constant in her life that is far more important than herself. Not having him in her life might actually cause her to lose the will to go on.

She sighs heavily and types out a response.

  
**Emilie says:** Yeah, incredibly nervous. This has the potential to fuck everything up, and I keep thinking that I'm going to lose Ry forever.  
**Emilie says:** This shouldn’t be how his life goes.  
**Emilie says:** He should’ve had a mother who gives a damn about him. And now, at the risk of being hyperbolic, we have to go in front of a judge who is literally deciding his fate.  
  
**Niall Love says:** I’m sorry love. . . I wish I could be there with you right now .  
  
**Emilie says:** I wish you could, too...   
**Emilie says:** Tell Mully I said hey, btw. But I better try to sleep. Gotta be up too damn early tomorrow. Goodnight xx  
  
**Niall Love says:** Goodnight , love  
**Niall Love says:** I'll be thinking of you xxxxxxx  


Emilie tosses her phone back onto the nightstand and rolls over in the bed. Moonlight peeks through the gap in the curtains, milky-white haze filling the room; the heating system kicks on with a quiet click and a thrum, and she shivers, tugs the comforter up more tightly around her shoulders. Whether it is the fearing the unknown of tomorrow or if it is actually cold in the apartment, she isn’t sure.

Within minutes, she crawls out of the bed and crosses the room. Ryder doesn’t stir as she lifts him from his cot, and she feels like she can breathe easier, the scent of baby wash flooding her senses. Nothing has ever been more calming than the sweetness that clings to the child after his baths, and right now, she needs that. He sniffles and burrows against her once she has him laid down in the middle of her mattress. Emilie makes sure they’re both covered by the blankets, presses a kiss to his soft hair, and closes her eyes.

The sound of her alarm comes far too soon. Emilie rushes to turn it off so it doesn’t wake Ryder then slips out of the bed. Dressing quickly in the sharp pantsuit Monica let her borrow, she hurries through applying her makeup - she knows she will most likely be crying by the end of the day, but she doesn’t want to show up in court looking like an extra in a vampire film, and if she has to use more concealer under her eyes than usual, it is no one’s business but hers. She’s just finished tying her hair back in a tight braid when a knock echoes through the silent apartment, typing a quick good-morning text to Niall that includes a warning that her phone won’t be on as she makes her way through the dark. She turns her phone off once the message has been delivered and opens the door.

Derek smiles, reassuring and steady and almost as needed as the cup of iced mocha he hands her. “I thought you might need this.”

“The coffeeshop isn’t even open right now, what the hell.”

“Emmett let me in before open so I could make it for you. He wishes for the best and says if you need him to, he’ll close up shop long enough to teach Danielle and the judge a lesson.”

“You wouldn’t help him?” she asks lightly, no matter how hard her heart is struggling to escape her ribs.

“Of course I would, but I’d do it by getting you and Ryder safely out of town.” He shrugs and perches on the stool. “Besides, Mon is the better fighter, so she’d have his back.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you guys?”

“Well, you came into the coffeeshop a couple years ago and immediately made us fall in love with you. Then you brought Ry with you, and we were doomed.”

Emilie clears her throat awkwardly then gestures toward the bedroom. Derek nods, and she leaves him there to wake Ryder and get him ready for the day. He fusses as she changes his diaper and puts him in the nicest outfit she owns for him, but he perks up when he sees Derek in the kitchen. There isn’t enough time to feed him at the flat, so Derek grabs a packet of PopTarts from the cabinet and the diaper bag from the end of the couch before following Emilie and Ryder out of the apartment.

“Hey, buddy, Auntie Em has to go talk to someone for a bit, okay, so I need you to stay here with Derek and be good. Can you do that for me?” Ryder nods but doesn’t look away from his plastic dinosaurs, and Emilie runs a hand over his hair. “I love you more than the rainbow, sweetheart.”

The prosecutor shakes her hand once she reaches his side, and Emilie listens intently to him explaining what the hearing is going to involve - mostly testimonies regarding the multiple occasions that Danielle has put her wants before her son’s needs. Emilie hates that everything has come to this. When she was a child, meeting her new stepsister for the first time, she never imagined that she would be in front of a judge almost seventeen years later telling everyone about the neglect she has tried so hard to save Ryder from.

Emilie’s knee bounces as she sits in the chair, staring down at the table in front of her. She wishes she was at home with Ryder, but they have to be here; she is just so thankful that Derek is keeping the child busy out in the corridor. Danielle sits just across the aisle to her left; Emilie knows if she looks over, she’ll see her former stepsister glaring at her, so she keeps her focus on the cheap wooden table in front of her. She rises to her feet and sits back down when she’s told to.

The guilt she’s carried with her over the last few months has abated slightly, though Emilie knows this is going to be a difficult day. Even harder than the day she called social services on Danielle, knowing that if they removed Ryder from the home, she would most likely never see him again. But coming home from the wonderful week-long vacation in LA to find what she did... Ryder’s safety has always been most important to her. Not having him in her life any more would be worth it if he never had to go back to living with his mother while she threw their lives away, never had to wonder if he was going to be loved and cared for like he deserves.

Emilie answers the questions that the prosecutor asks and refuses to rise to the bait at the deliberately misleading inquiries from the defence. Her skin itches under the venomous stare from her former stepsister, but Emilie doesn’t waver as she recounts walking into the house to see Ryder in a portable crib, his diaper heavy with waste and hanging below his knees, his face filthy with however many days of food. Her voice holds steady when she tells the court of finding Danielle passed out in her bed in the other room, not stirring even though her child was sobbing and screaming hysterically not even fifteen feet away. Emilie admits to taking him from the house that night without hesitation.

“It was my duty as his godmother and as a sensible, compassionate human being to make him safe. He wasn’t safe there.”

Danielle’s face has settled into something less angry, more disgusted, by the time Emilie returns to her seat. Emilie sidesteps when Danielle reaches for her hand, ignoring the way the other woman’s head drops. Comforting the woman who is so willingly destroying an innocent life is not high on her list of priorities, no matter the previous familial relationship they may have had.

Someone shows photographs and home videos as evidence of how long Danielle’s addictions have strained the relationship between mother and son; not one of them has Ryder reaching for Danielle, interacting with her, even the ones from when he was an infant - he always reached for Emilie. She closes her eyes when he starts screaming from the speakers, fighting to get to his godmother as his mother carried him toward the door to leave after his birthday party. The tear slips from the corner of her eye, slides down her cheek.

The voices of the attorneys meld into a blur as Emilie stares at the floor beneath her feet. It’s impossible to focus on anything other than leaving this courtroom, saying goodbye to Ryder as he’s taken to a new family, and going home to hurt in peace. A solid weight drops into her belly at the thought of watching a stranger lead the child away and out of her life. She isn’t sure she’ll survive this, but the fact it’s best for him means she has no other choice. In the mass of noise comes the judge’s question of who has the child, and the prosecutor confers with his notes before answering simply: Miss Ellis.

“Just let her keep him.”


	20. twenty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm kinda drunk and far too impatient to wait for next wednesday to update again! dedicated to phoenixx90 for being so amazing and keeping me motivated with this story! you're so wonderful, darling. xx

Silence reigns deafeningly in the courtroom, and Emilie’s head snaps up and to the left. Her blood roars in her ears, and her hands tremble in her lap; her breath catches in her throat, but she doesn’t even try to draw in air. What the Hell is Danielle talking about? She’s always been so adamant that Ryder is her son and her responsibility, and Emilie’s interference is hardly acceptable, except when she’s caring for the child while Danielle is out living her life. Her stepsister sighs and stands.

“Look, your Honour, it’s been proven that my son doesn’t recognise me as his mother. Em - Miss Ellis has taken care of him most of his life. His father is, well… he’s not around. I don’t want him to go into foster care when she’s more than capable to raise him, and I’m afraid that’s what’s going to happen if I don’t sign over my rights to her so I can… so I can clean up my life. He deserves to be with someone who loves him as much as she does.”

“Miss Gutwein, I expect that you’ve thought long and hard about this and it isn’t just a way to deflect your responsibility as a parent.”

“I’ve been thinking about this every day since I was arrested three months ago. As you can see, Miss Ellis has been wonderful with him, taking care of him and keeping him safe. It’s in his best interest to stay with her. I, I want the last thing I do as his mother to be certain he’s with her, because it’s the best life he could possibly have.”

The judge stares at Danielle, eyes narrowed contemplatively. Finally, he turns his gaze on Emilie, and her head swims, prompting her to _breathe_. “Miss Ellis, are you willing to take on full parental responsibility for the child?”

“I am,” she whispers with a nod after a long moment.

“This is highly unorthodox,” the judge starts, and Emilie inhales shakily, “but I must admit, it does make the decision easier in regards to what happens to the child during his mother’s incarceration. Miss Ellis, if you’ll wait for me in my chambers…”

Emilie follows the bailiff from the room on weak knees, and her heart races in her chest. She sits in the chair in front of the judge’s desk and waits. Time drags by, the clock on the wall ticking louder and louder as more seconds fall away; the scenery outside of the window behind the desk is dreary, dark grey clouds rolling in with an impending storm. She bites her lower lip and grabs a tissue from the box on the desk. Wiping at her sweaty palms, she sighs and stares around the office once more. The sound of the door opening startles her.

“Miss Ellis, thank you for your patience. I’ve instructed the officers to allow you a few minutes with Miss Gutwein once you’re done here.” The judge settles into his chair with a heavy sigh. Emilie doesn’t envy him for his job. “I am glad that she suggested this. I’m sure social workers would have considered you as a viable option for the child, but this way, we skipped all that. You realise that this is going to be difficult, and you won’t have your own life for the next sixteen years, yes?”

“Yes, sir. I’m aware. He’s… he’s worth it, though. I do have one question.”

“Yes?”

“What are the, uh, stipulations to me having guardianship or whatever?”

“It would be full legal and physical custody. You will be in charge of every decision regarding him - medical, schooling, everything that a biological parent would have.”

“Do we have to stay in the city of Austin? Just in case Danielle wants him back?”

The judge leans forward, rests his elbows on the desk. “As soon as the paperwork is signed and filed, you will be free to move to Sweden if that’s what you choose. Miss Gutwein could potentially petition to reverse the adoption, but it’s one of the most difficult processes in the court system. If, _if_ that happens, you will be required to come back to this court when summoned, but otherwise, you are allowed to live anywhere with the child that you would like.

“For right now, the adoption is going to be considered ‘pending’, but that status will change once DCFS investigates your home as a permanent residence and approves you as a fit and able parental figure. But, barring any unforeseen issues, congratulations, Miss Ellis, you’re the mother of a beautiful, bouncing, two-year-old boy.”

Emilie leaves the courthouse feeling mixed-up. She stopped and talked to Danielle on her way out, and though that conversation hadn’t been quite the cathartic revelation she hoped for, she can only keep looking forward now. She has a child to raise. Derek gives her a questioning look, and she shakes her head. Ryder plays happily in his stroller with the plastic dinosaurs he brought with them; Emilie is just glad that being in the courtroom hasn’t seemed to scare him. She stops walking, leans down, and peppers his face with kisses. He giggles and shoves a T-Rex head against her lips.

“You ready to go home, little dude?”

“‘Ome! Go ‘ome!” He pauses then smashes the T-Rex into the side of his triceratops before squinting up at her. “Ni-Ni?”

“Nah, buddy, I don’t think Ni-Ni is gonna be there. Just you and me tonight.”

“‘Kay. ‘Ome!” he shrieks, pointing his dinosaurs forward.

By the time they get home, Ryder has told Emilie he’s hungry seven times, demanded yogurt three, and babbled to his toys in the backseat for most of the drive. Derek helps her keep the toddler from running off while she gathers up his diaper bag and shoes that he tugged off within five minutes of being buckled in his car seat. She hugs her friend and grabs hold of Ryder’s hand, leading him through the door to the apartment building.

Once he’s settled in his highchair with a small bowl of yogurt and some fruit, Emilie turns on the television and switches the channel to Nick Jr. Sunlight streams through the large window in her bedroom when she walks in to change into a pair of pyjamas. Her plan for the rest of the day is to lounge around and relax with Ryder, enjoy the handful of hours she has left before it’s bedtime. She’s just set the kettle on its heating element when she realises she hasn’t heard from Niall today.

There are eight texts, one of which is from Derek letting her know he was taking Ryder with him to the bathroom, and three missed calls, the notifications staring up at her, by the time Emilie turns her phone on. The last message was sent only twenty minutes ago. She unlocks her phone, opens the message thread, and reads.

Niall Love  
  
**Niall Love says:** Hope today goes well. Let me know ok? xx  
**Niall Love says:** I know you’re probably in court by now but I wanted you to know I’m thinking of you   
**Niall Love says:** It’s quiet and I’m bored  
**Niall Love says:** Is court over yet ?  
**Niall Love says:** I’m so nervous and I’m not even involved in this. Hoping it gets over soon !  
**Niall Love says:** Em? Is everything ok ?  
**Niall Love says:** I’m getting worried, Emilie… Please text back soon, yeah ?  


Emilie smiles as the letters blur together; it feels… unfamiliar for someone to care so much, but it’s nice. She glances up at her godson, still happily making a mess with his banana slices and yogurt, and sends back a message.

  
**Emilie says:** So sorry. Literally just got home a few minutes ago. Had to stay behind and talk to the judge one on one. I’ll explain later once Ry is in bed. Thank you for caring and checking up on me x  
  
**Niall Love says:** Oh I’m so glad it’s over. Fuck I was so nervous for you. I’ll be ready to FaceTime or whatever whenever you’re ready xx  


Niall’s response came almost immediately, and she claps a hand over her mouth as an inelegant snort slips out.

“Hey, Ry? I think Niall cares about us.”

“Ni? I talk Ni-Ni!”

  
**Emilie says:** You busy now? Ry really wants his Ni-Ni lol  


The delivered message switches to Read, and she barely gets the chance to notice before her phone is ringing. She grins at the photo on the screen ー the one she took the morning after he had come over drunk ー and answers it. Her heart lurches at the sight of his face, smiling and bright-eyed.

“You’re not my bud, I wanna see my bud!”

She laughs, shakes her head. “He ain’t touching my phone. He’s all messy with food, but I guess I can be nice enough to hold the phone for him if I get a hello from you first, mister.”

“Oh, forgive me, where are my manners? Hello, Emilie. Now let me see Ryder.”

“I see how it is,” she jokes even as she turns the phone around to face the child, “I’m chopped liver whenever Ry’s around.”

“Ni-Ni!”

“Hey! You are a mess, aren’t ya? What are you eating?”

“’Gurt an’ nananas.”

Emilie watches as Ryder gibbers nonsensically to Niall. The man on the other end talks back with just as much enthusiasm, even though Emilie is pretty sure he has no idea what Ry is even saying; she still has to translate most of Ryder’s sentences, even though it’s been nine months since Niall came into their life, six since they made this thing between them less nebulous.

Ryder quickly gets bored with talking, shoving himself back in the seat of his highchair. Emilie props her phone against the coffee maker and wets down a washcloth, scrubs at the child’s face against his squeals of protest. He toddles off once she’s set him on his feet, and she watches him dig through the toy-chest in the corner of the living room for a moment. The sound of someone clearing their throat reminds her that there’s a video chat that she has to get back to. She flashes an apologetic smile at Niall, grabbing up her phone, and heads to the living room to flop down on the couch.

“Have you thought any more about what I asked?”

She catches her lower lip in between her teeth and avoids Niall’s gaze. “I, uh… I have, actually, but that’s something we should talk about later, when there aren’t little ears around to listen in.”

“You’re not going to.” It isn’t a question. Niall’s voice is flat, and she winces.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Niall, I swear. I- I really do. But.” She sighs heavily, makes sure that Ryder is sufficiently distracted by the plastic dinosaurs and Matchbox cars. “I can’t. I hate that I have to say no, but, I just can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Danielle lost custody of him today. Actually, no, that’s not quite right.”

“What do you mean?” he asks when Emilie doesn’t speak immediately, and she gives an abortive shrug.

“She signed all her rights away. To me. And, god, I’m sorry, but he’s been through enough change in his life, I can’t just uproot him from all he knows. So yeah, I… I think it’s best that we stay here.”

Niall’s brows draw tightly over his eyes, but before he can say anything, Ryder screeches and throws a dinosaur at the television. Emilie groans low in her throat, tells Niall she has to go, and hangs up without waiting for a response. Ryder refuses to settle down even when Emilie wraps him in her arms, holds him to her chest, whispers soothingly in his ear. So she scoops him up and carries him to the bedroom; he squirms unhappily but stops trying to get out of the bed after the third time she pulls him back to cuddle with her. It isn’t much longer after that that his breathing evens out. She stares at the sleeping child, an ache filling her chest.

Against her better instincts, Emilie had started seriously considering Niall’s offer of her moving in with him over the last two weeks. She knew it would mean leaving Ryder behind, but the thought of living with her boyfriend was - is - tempting. But she means what she told him: Now that she has custody of the toddler, she can’t bear to be that selfish, not when it affects his life so much. And now that she’s told Niall no, she can only wonder if this is the beginning of the end.


	21. twenty-one.

Niall texts her an hour later, asking if she’s okay. Emilie swallows the lump in her throat even as she promises that everything is fine. She knows that things are going to change now - not only is she the permanent guardian to Ryder, which means she alone is responsible for him and his well-being, the relationship she has with Niall is bound to be different, too. He had sounded so excited about the idea of her moving in when he brought it up, nervous but excited especially when she hadn’t said no immediately, but now, that possibility is gone. She closes out of the messaging app and brings up her photo gallery.

The photos of Ry are now interspersed with selfies that Niall has sent over the last nine months, and the sight of his grins, his bright blue eyes… it hurts. She knows he is disappointed, how could he not be? The distance between them seems to have grown over the last couple of weeks; he hasn’t let their conversations become awkward, stilted, since he asked, but Emilie can’t stop herself from fearing that her rejection is only going to hurt them both and their relationship won’t be able to withstand it.

She locks her phone, the post-Thanksgiving picture vanishing as the screen goes black, and sets the device on the nightstand. A heaviness settles deep in her soul. The weight of her worries slowly grows, suffocating her with each _he’s going to leave you, you’re going to be alone, he doesn’t want you any more_ that loops through her mind. Sniffling, Emilie wipes away the tear that slips along her temple to dampen her hair, gives up when more tears follow.

The quiet is broken by a harsh gasp, and Emilie bolts upright in bed. Her breath comes out rapidly, shakily, and her heart pounds painfully behind her ribs. The heat that comes from the air-vents does little to ease the chill that clings to her skin, emanates from the inside out; icy sweat drips down her spine, and goosebumps race across her flesh. The vestiges of the nightmare disappear like water through her fingers, and though she tries to hold onto them, she can’t remember what it was about. The only thing she can recall is the overpowering sensation of desperation, agonising loss, and the empty void of loneliness.

The clock on her phone says it’s just half-two, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep again. Not for a while, anyway. She throws back the covers and grabs her phone, checking on Ryder as she heads to the door. He sleeps on, peaceful and unaware of how mixed-up his aunt is, and Emilie tries to take comfort from that. She leaves the door open just a crack and makes her way on silent footsteps to the kitchen.

Tea in hand ten minutes later, Emilie sits on the couch, crossing her legs into a pretzel, and stares at her phone. She has no idea if Niall is even still awake or if he even wants to hear from her right now. Sure, he messaged earlier to check on her, but that doesn’t mean he can ignore the way she’s disappointed him. She settles further into the couch and lets her mind travel over the last nine months of him being in her life.

Niall has been such an amazing man, never demanding her attention, always so understanding when she has had to cancel phone calls or video chats. He accepted so readily that Ryder has always been her number one. Emilie closes her eyes and brings up the memories of the week she spent in LA. The peacefulness of not having anything to do but spend time with Niall, waking up in his arms or to breakfast ready downstairs, going to bed whenever she wanted and spending less time than she wanted to memorise everything about him... she wants that back. All of it, all of him.

Logically, Emilie knows that none of this is Ryder’s fault. The child is just an innocent victim of an immature, selfish mother, and Emilie can’t be angry that he’s hers now. She had known caring for him would be a potential from the moment she heard that Danielle was even pregnant. But there’s nothing she can do about the reluctance, the hesitance, the irritation, at having her life turned upside down because Danielle couldn’t grow up and put her son first.

Tears she didn’t even know were there suddenly break loose, streaming down her cheeks, and she has no idea why she’s crying. All she knows is the ache of mourning that consumes her. This is going to be the thing that destroys her relationship, and she is going to be left alone to care for a child she didn’t bring into this world, and she will never find another man like Niall even if she searches for the rest of her days. He’s a breed of his own; far too kind and patient and caring, he is irreplaceable. Or maybe it’s because she loves him more deeply than she’s ever loved someone else. He has burrowed so far beneath her skin, he destroyed all the walls she has kept firmly in place since the last disastrous attempt at a serious relationship, and Emilie nearly drowns in the truth that Niall is too perfect for her.

“Uh-oh, An’ Em spill!”

Emilie jerks awake, blinks blearily at the toddler that stands next to the couch. Her neck twinges when she sits upright, and she realises she fell asleep on the couch - and, as Ryder pointed out, spilt tea on the floor. Sighing, she gently pushes him back a few steps so he doesn’t step into the puddle. He follows her dutifully to the kitchen, moving to stand by his high-chair, and she hurriedly gets him buckled into the seat, gives him a peeled banana, and grabs a dish towel to clean up the mess on the living room floor. She has never been more grateful for stone floors than she is this morning.

Every inch of her body hurts from sleeping hunched over. It gets worse when she crouches down, her hips protesting by seeming to grind against their sockets, and she nearly cries at the pain. She was planning on going for a run this morning, but if her muscles and joints are already mutinying, that activity is off the list of things to do. She drops the sopping towel into the washing machine then heads to the fridge to get out the eggs.

She sets the plate of scrambled eggs on Ryder’s tray, kisses his forehead, and immediately moves out of the way so he can dig in. Her phone vibrates on the coffee-table; she answers the call only to have to input the code for the guest to enter the parking structure. It’s either Monica or Derek, so she doesn’t give a damn about her appearance. They both have seen her in worse condition.

“Oof, you look like shit, babe.”

“Gee, thanks, Mon.”

“Go, take a shower or something. I’ve got little man.”

“Thanks.”

“Go!” Monica laughs, shooing her away from the kitchen toward the bathroom. “Your coffee will still be waiting or you when you get out.”

“What would I do without you?”

“Have no life, mostly. Now go.”

Emilie rolls her eyes but does as so politely ordered. She can’t deny that a long, hot shower will do wonders in unkinking her muscles from the awkward position she was in all night. _One of These Nights_ starts as soon as Pandora loads, and she smiles to herself and sets her phone on the bathroom counter. She’s just undressed and turned on the shower when a thought drifts lazily into her mind. It’s most likely a terrible decision, and she wonders if it will keep Niall from being too upset with her or make things worse. She decides to deal with the aftermath, well, _after_; making sure her face isn’t in the shot, she snaps the picture and sends it off to Niall, then steps into the tub.

Monica sits on the living room with Ryder when Emilie finally emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later. It felt awkward to take so long in the shower, but the tension and stress are all but gone now, so it is worth it. She flops down onto the couch and makes grabby hands toward the drink that sits on the coffee-table. Monica is no help at all - all she does is snort in amusement and makes no move to help Emilie reach the iced mocha.

“What did you tell him?”

“I... damn, not even going to give me a chance to indulge in some coffee first? Wait, is this why you’re here?”

“Yup.”

“I thought it was because you missed my face.”

“Of course I didn’t. I just needed the daily dose of your drama.”

Emilie gapes at her friend; there is rarely drama in her life that isn’t manufactured by outside sources. Then she remembers what happened just yesterday and amends her reaction. Drama. “Well, I, um, I told him I couldn’t move in with him.”

“How did he take it? No, Ry, I’m playing with the triceratops, so you have to wait your turn. Oh, no,” Monica gasps, staring at Emilie with wide eyes and dropped jaw. “He didn’t dump you, did he?”

“Not yet. Don’t look at me like that. You know as well as I do that it’s only a matter of time now. I mean, the distance has always been there, but he got up the courage to suggest moving the relationship into more, something undeniably serious, and I knocked him down. So now he has to decide whether it’s worth dealing with being so far away while knowing I said no to moving in with him.”

Monica hands the pink dinosaur to Ryder, crosses the living room to sit on the sofa and pull Emilie into her side. “Look, I’m not saying you didn’t surprise him by saying no. Hell, you mighta even shaken his confidence a bit. But you should probably talk to him about it, okay? Don’t let your fears get to you if they’re unfounded.”

“I’m... I’m scared, though. What if he doesn’t think it’s worth it anymore?”

“Then he’s an idiot, and I’ll fly to LA just to tell him all the reasons he done fucked up by letting you go.” Monica hums under her breath then flashes a grin. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. I have some vacation saved up, and Emmett would understand.”

Emilie lets Monica’s words wash over her, comfort her. The uncertainty in regards to Niall is still there and will be until she talks to him, but it’s easier to breathe now that she isn’t alone, dwelling on the possibilities. Monica turns on the television on, finds _The Twilight Zone_, and settles into the couch. She doesn’t let Emilie go, as if she knows just how tenuous is the hold Emilie has on her emotional stability.

“What did you send him?” asks Monica as Emilie prepares lunch for Ryder, and Emilie’s eyes widen. She rushes to grab the phone from her friend. “Bean, did you sext?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” Emilie retorts, even though she can feel the heat in her cheeks, giving her away.

“Oh. My. God. You totally did.”

“Shut up.”

  
**Niall Love says:** Wow !!!!  
**Niall Love says:** That was great to wake up to 😍😍  
**Niall Love says:** Are you busy ?  
  
**Emilie says:** Finishing up making some food for Ry then I won’t be. Why?  
  
**Niall Love says:** Can’t a man want to talk to his girlfriend ?  
  
**Emilie says:** I guessss 😜  
**Emilie says:** I’ll call you as soon as I’m done  


Emilie hurries through her task, reassured by the fact that Niall called her his girlfriend. Her mind races over the potentials of what he could want to talk about, but she draws in a deep breath and tries not to let her thoughts race too far ahead. That rarely ever ends well for her. More often than not, she sabotages good things by overthinking, and this relationship with Niall is the best thing that’s come into her life, hat she has chosen and didn’t feel like she was obligated to accept. Ryder is amazing, and she would never change how much she does for him. But taking care of him has always been something she considered a requirement.

“Hi.”

Hearing Niall’s voice causes her words to dry up in her throat. She ignores the inquisitive look that Monica shoots her, running a hand through her hair as she perches on the countertop. Eventually, Emilie clears her throat. “Hi. Uh, what’s up?”

“I’ve been doing some thinking, and I think we need to talk about it.”


	22. twenty-two.

Emilie’s heart stutters in her chest, blood going cold. It is never a good thing when someone says “We need to talk”, and it is an especially worse sign when that phrase comes after an upheaval of the “_you asked me to move in with you, but I said no_” kind. She swallows harshly in an effort to clear the lump in her throat, but it remains. Monica frowns, though she doesn’t say anything, just quietly encourages Ryder to keep eating.

“A-about what?”

Niall chuckles softly in her ear, and a shiver runs down her spine; she remembers how it felt to have his breath ghosting over her skin, and her entire being aches for that easiness. “It’s not a bad thing, love, I promise.”

“Well, that’s reassuring,” she quips, though it really is. It doesn’t take the edge off her fear, but she no longer feels quite as close to vibrating right out of her skin. “So... what have you been thinking?”

“I know you said you can’t move in, and - and I understand, don’t think I don’t. This isn’t me trying to guilt you into changing your mind. I was just thinking last night, and I figured I’d ask if you would be okay with you and Ryder coming here for Christmas?”

“What?”

“Come here for Christmas, unless you have plans already?”

Her head swims with the sudden onslaught of relief that this isn’t him breaking up with her; warmth flows through her, and she feels unsteady, like she will fall off the counter if she so much as takes a breath. It takes a moment before she can think properly. “I, I don’t think we do. Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because... fuck, give me a sec. Mon?”

“Go on. I can handle this.”

Emilie makes her way to her bedroom, closes the door tightly behind her. Niall stays silent, only his breathing coming down the line. She drops onto the end of her bed and stares at the far wall. Eventually, she gets her thoughts in order, and her inhale is shaky. The sound of her picking at a thread on the comforter is steady, solid, and she focuses on the _thwack-twang_ as she pushes through the anxiety.

“I want to. But Niall, it’s different being around a kid constantly. It wouldn’t be like whenever you come here, where you can leave whenever you want and not have to think twice about Ry. And it certainly wouldn’t be like the week I spent there.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Niall replies softly, though his snort is louder. “Em, I invited you to move in. I knew full well that it wasn’t going to be as easy as when it was just you and me. I know that with Ryder here, too, we won’t be able to do half the things we did whenever we want, including having sex on the couch - which, by the way, Mully still hasn’t quite forgiven me for.”

Emilie can’t help it: The laugh bubbles out of her without permission, and heat rises in her face. She knows that Niall is only saying it to make her feel more comfortable, less nervous about this conversation. She appreciates it, though. It’s just another point of evidence that he is far more than she deserves.

“Has he forgiven me?”

“Are you kidding? He swears that I seduced you with my evil, dirty ways, and that’s the only reason it happened.”

“Right. I had no choice but to go along with it.” Emilie sighs and frowns as the amusement fades away, leaving her standing on the edge of the abyss; she may not know quite yet whether she’ll jump or run away, but she can’t make that decision until everything is settled. “You’re certain that you want us to be there?”

“Emilie - what’s your middle name?”

Emilie blinks owlishly at the abrupt change in topic. After a moment, she shakes her head and replies, “It’s Taylor, why?”

“Emilie Taylor Ellis, trust me when I tell you I am absolutely certain about this. I want to spend Christmas with you and Ryder, no matter how different it will be compared to every other time we’ve spent time with each other.”

“Okay, then I guess Ry and I will be there.”

“Good. I should’ve been in the shower already, so give Ryder my love, and I’ll talk to you later, all right?”

Emilie hangs up and bites her lower lip. He didn’t end their relationship; in fact, he did the complete opposite. She knows she should be thrilled, doing a happy dance and shouting from the rooftops, but a dark cloud hangs over her head. There is still the chance that he can find everything too much to handle and change his mind. He may say he understands, but there is literally no preparing for having a child suddenly in your life every second of every day.

Emilie had months to ready for Ryder’s existence, and she still is overwhelmed with all the responsibility that comes with being a stand-in mother. Niall has had sporadic periods of being around Ryder. It’s not the same.

A knock sounds at the door, jerking Emilie from her thoughts. She scrubs a hand over her damp cheeks - when did she start crying? - and croaks out, “I’ll be right there.”

She gives herself another minute to compose herself then stands. The fears and doubts slip back into their box in the rear of her mind, obediently waiting until she has the time to examine them further, and right now isn’t that time. Right now, she has a child to care for, so that’s what she is going to do.

The next few hours are spent binge-watching _Letterkenny_ while Ryder naps and kissing him goodbye once he wakes. Her life may be topsy-turvy at the moment, but that doesn’t mean she can shirk her responsibilities regarding her education. Emilie hates that she chose a slot so late in the day, but it was the only one that would work with Derek and Monica’s schedules. She is grateful that she can be home before Ryder has to be in bed, though.

Somehow, she makes it through class without her attention straying from the lecture for too long. Emilie says goodbyes to the people she’s come to view as friends as they walk through the doors to the car park. Her phone emits a low ding, and Emilie waits until the car is started before checking it.

The email turns out to be from an airline. Her brows draw tightly together, even as she skims over the message. Two flight tickets, bound for L.A. on the twenty-second and back to Austin on the third of January. There is no question in her mind who purchased them.

Emilie would be upset about the fact that Niall spent so much money on two plane tickets - if she wasn’t certain that he did it out of fear of her changing her mind. She marks the email as important then brings up Pandora. Tom Petty floods through the speakers, and her lips twitch at the familiar song. Adjusting the volume, she reverses out of the parking stall and points the wheels toward home.


	23. twenty-three.

Ryder stirs in his bed, but he doesn’t wake. Emilie breathes out a sigh of relief and continues carrying the armful of clothes to the living room where the two suitcases have been placed in the couch. The room looks as if her closet threw up all of its contents, which isn’t far from the truth: The only things left hanging are a few dresses and a pair of jeans she keeps only for sentimental value, since she knows she will never fit in them again.

She hasn’t told anyone, not even Monica or Derek, about her plans to spend Christmas in LA. Emilie isn’t going to change her mind, not this close to the flight; she is far too excited to see Niall again, and she would feel absolutely awful about him having wasted so much money on tickets. While she knows none of her loved ones will try to convince her to stay, she doesn’t want to risk them asking questions and her starting to overthink this decision. The one person she’s dreading talking to is Paige. Emilie is afraid that the other woman won’t take the news well. After all, Ryder is her grandson, and she deserves to have the chance to see him on holidays.

She and Ryder wait by the entrance to the parking structure early the next morning. He keeps trying to run around on the sidewalk, whining and stomping his little foot when Emilie tugs him to a stop. Thankfully, Derek’s Mustang pulls up to the curb not even ten minutes later. The fact that it’s not even five in the morning means he isn’t blocking traffic, but it also means he’s in less than a cheerful mood. He doesn’t speak as he puts the luggage in the boot while Emilie buckles Ryder into the car seat.

“I thought you weren’t going to your mom’s for Christmas this year,” he grouses as he pulls back into the road, and Emilie squirms in her seat.

“I’m not.”

“Then why the fuck am I awake so early to take you to the airport?”

“I, uh... We’re going to spend the holidays with the cutie. _Don’t_ say his name,” she warns when Derek’s mouth opens. “I don’t wanna deal with Ry getting too excited right now.”

“And you’re just telling me this now?”

“In my defence, he invited us last night.”

“Holy shit, those tickets must have been expensive.”

“I can only assume.” She catches his questioning look. “He paid for them so I couldn’t change my mind.”

Derek laughs harder than she feels is necessary for the situation. “Smart man. Well, I’m happy for y’all. Did you tell your parents?”

“Ah, fuck. No. I probably should, huh?”

Mom, Dad  
  
**Emilie says:** Hey, Mom and Dad. So. Happy early Christmas and New Years and all that jazz. I know I should have told you before now, but... Ry and I kinda got invited to spend the holidays with Niall. Sorry for the late heads-up, but he extended the invitation literally less than 24 hours ago, and I’ve been busy packing. I’ll be back on the third of January, tho. If I die while in LA, please clear my internet browsing history and make sure I’m cremated - I don’t wanna come back as a brain-hungry zombie with everyone knowing what kind of porn I watched while alive. Love you!!!  


The phone conversation with Paige is easier than expected: The woman is surprisingly understanding and supportive of the plans. She assures Emilie that she isn’t angry that she’s taking Ryder out of state for a major holiday, though she _does_ make Emilie promise to come to Corpus Christi once they’re back in Texas so that Ryder can have a belated Christmas dinner with her side of the family.

Mom, Dad  
  
Dad  
**Dad says:** Have fun, kiddo. Be careful not to die, and don’t drive anywhere. I’ve been to LA. They drive like fucking morons out there.  
  
Mom  
**Mom says:** Jack, you think everyone drives like morons  
**Mom says:** Enjoy your time, Emilie. I love you!! XOXO  


Checking in for the flight is made easier by an older couple; they keep an eye on her luggage and keep Ryder laughing while she talks to the staff member, and she’s surprised when they sit next to her. The man does magic tricks with a quarter while the women watch the child laughing and squealing in delight. The woman pats Emilie’s hand gently, her wrinkled face crinkling further with the soft smile.

“You have a darling little boy.”

Emilie has to bite back the knee-jerk reaction of informing the woman that Ryder isn’t her son, that she’s just the one raising him while his mother is in prison. It’s far too early in the morning to be blabbing their life stories. Besides, it’s no one else’s business. So she nods and murmurs a thank you.

Eventually, Ryder tires of watching the coin disappear and climbs up into Emilie’s lap. She instinctively wraps her arms around him, breathes in that baby smell when he rests his head on her chest. The couple walks away once their flight is called, and Emilie watches them go hand-in-hand to their terminal. She doesn’t have to try very hard to see Niall and herself in them, growing old together, helping another young woman struggling in an airport to keep her child corralled, entertaining the little one to give the mother a break. Her heart clenches tightly at the mental image, and she wants that.

Mully grins widely when Emilie comes through the gate, Ryder staring around in awe at their surroundings. She hefts the child more securely into her arms and carefully weaves her way through the other passengers until she’s in front of the man. He hesitates then hugs them both as well as he can, and Emilie smiles once they’ve separated.

“It’s great to see you.”

“You, too. Ready to go?”

“Yeah, just gotta grab our stuff.”

Suitcases in Mully’s hand, the trio makes their way out to the parking structure. Ryder squirms and begs to walk, but Emilie tells him firmly that that’s not an option. His face screws up, a sure sign of an impending tantrum, so she steps off to the side. Mully comes to a stop a few feet away, watching the people that pass so she can have privacy to talk to the child.

“I know you wanna walk by yourself, darling boy, but this is a very large car park, and I don’t want you to get hurt if someone isn’t paying attention. So you have to let me carry you to Mister Sean’s car. It’s to keep you safe. Okay?”

“No ‘kay.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way, but it is what it is, kid. You’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Ryder mutters that it isn’t okay once more even as Emilie scoops him back up into her arms. He lets his head fall to her shoulder; she blows out a breath of relief. That could have gone a helluva lot worse, and she is so thankful that it didn’t. The last thing she needs right now is to have people judging her for his tantrums.

She knows she shouldn’t be surprised to see a car seat in the backseat of the car, but she is. Mully stows away the luggage, and she buckles Ryder into the seat, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. His lips curve into a sleepy smile; her chest warms at the sight, and she hurriedly slides into the front seat. Once her belt is latched properly, she pulls her phone from the cup of her bra, wipes the screen on her leggings, and turns the device on. There are four notifications: Niall has texted, telling her to have a safe flight and to let him know when they’re on the way back to the house; Derek and Monica sent their well-wishes for her to have a wonderful holiday; and her father called while her phone was off.

Apologising to Mully, Emilie listens to her dad’s voicemail:

“Hey, kid, I just wanted to let you know... I’m proud of you. You know that, right? I know you’re gonna ask if everything is all right, and it is, don’t worry. I’m just an old man who’s realised he hasn’t exactly been the most present man in his daughter’s life over the years. I still think of you as the little girl who used to look up to me and try to do everything I did, but now you’re in a relationship with a kid I ain’t even met, and you’re spending Christmas with him.” The clicking of a lighter in the background causes Emilie’s brows to furrow - he stopped smoking when she was eleven. “Don’t do that judging thing, Em. I’m not smoking. Perry needed a light, and having a lighter comes in handy when you’re trying to convince bigwigs to invest in various companies. You wouldn’t believe how many cigars those assholes go through during one lunch. Anyway. I, uh, I just wanted to tell you that I love you, okay? Call me whenever you get this. If you want.”

Mully gives her a questioning look when she hangs up. She smiles, tells him it was her dad being weirdly affectionate out of nowhere.

“It’s gotta be the holidays,” he suggests with a shrug.

“Maybe.”

“So, does the little guy know where he’s going?”

Emilie turns to look at the child, stretching against her seatbelt until she can see his face; he’s fast asleep, eyelashes fluttering against his round cheeks as he dreams. She faces forward again. “Nah, I figured I’d let it be one of his Christmas surprises, to wake up and see Niall. Ry really loves him.”

“Niall really loves the little lad, too,” replies Mully with a quick glance into the mirror before changing lanes. “I’m going to be honest. I never thought I’d see the day that Niall would fall so hard for someone like this. I mean, he’s been in relationships before, some that were serious, some not. But you? And Ryder? You two have become the most important people in his life. I’m… I’m glad for that. He’s my best mate. He deserves happiness more than anyone I know. Thank you.”

She squirms awkwardly in her seat, avoids his gaze. She isn’t sure how she feels about the sudden seriousness in his expression, the earnest gravity of his words. Underneath the uncomfortable tightness in her chest is a warmth blooming, spreading its fingers through her body. Emilie lets out a slow breath to calm herself.

Thankfully, Mully doesn’t seem to have any expectations for a reply. He just reaches over to adjust the volume on the radio and continues driving, seemingly content enough to let Emilie work through her thoughts and feelings alone. The rest of the drive drags on; with the rising of the sun has come the influx of traffic. Ryder stays asleep even as Mully comes to a stop by the fence and turns off the car.

Before Emilie can even unbuckle her belt, Niall is at the door, pulling it open. He’s nearly vibrating as he waits for her to step out of the car, then he tugs her in for a bone-crushing embrace. Emilie melts against him, breathes in his scent. She hates that it’s been so long since they have seen each other in person. Something in her shifts, an empty space in her soul filling and disappearing with the contact. Her eyes are burning, vision blurred, by the time they pull away.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, love. Fuck, I’m so glad to see your face.” Niall presses a tender kiss to her lips then grins brightly. “Now, I’m gonna get my little bud, if you don’t mind.”

“Have at it. He’s kinda mad at me for not letting him run around the car park anyway.”

Emilie stands just behind him, watching as he ducks into the backseat; her brows raise when he manages to unbuckle the clips of Ryder’s seat without trouble or hesitation. She’s been handling carseats for two years, and even she still has difficulty sometimes. Mully catches her eye, jerks his head in Niall’s direction.

“He’s been practising,” he mouths, and Emilie could cry with the emotions that rise up in her.

Ryder’s sleepy whine turns into a screech of Niall’s name; he launches his tiny body into Niall’s arms, and Niall holds him close as he backs out of the car. Emilie pushes the door closed once they’re out of the way. Both of her favourite boys ignore her completely, Niall engrossed in listening to Ryder chatter on as they make their way to the house. Emilie shakes her head with a soft laugh then helps Mully grab the suitcases.

“I have a feeling we’re not wanted any more,” she announces lightly.

Mully huffs out a laugh, stares after Niall and Ryder. “Yeah. As I said, he’s _very_ fond of Ryder.”


	24. twenty-four.

Emilie comes to a stop in the hallway outside of one of the guest rooms. Niall is sat on the floor with Ryder, showing off a line of books geared for children; there’s a small box of toys off in the corner, a small bookcase, and a nightlight plugged into an outlet, but everything else in the bedroom screams “adults stay here”. She watches the two for a moment then clears her throat quietly to announce her presence.

Niall glances over his shoulder, grins brightly, but then he turns back to Ryder. “And this is Freddie’s favourite book. He’ll be here in a couple days, so you’ll have a little mate to play with.”

“’Feh-ee?”

Niall pronounces the name again, this time slower, and Ryder tries once more. He gets closer - “Fed-ee” - and Niall huffs out a small laugh and seems to accept it. After brushing a gentle kiss to the child’s soft hair, Niall shifts him off his lap, telling him he can play with whatever toy is in the box. Emilie smiles up at him once he stands in front of her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I figured he could stay in here, it’s the room Lou and Freddie use whenever they decide to stay over.”

“It’s… it’s very much appreciated.”

“Good.” Niall ducks down to kiss her. “Thank you for saying yes to spending the holidays with me.”

“Thank you for inviting us. And before you ask, no, I didn’t really have any plans already. I mean, maybe I would’ve caved and gone to Paige’s, but Mom is on a cruise for Christmas and Dad’s somewhere in, like, Europe or wherever. I think. So Ry and I would have just been chilling by our lonesomes.”

He kisses away any more of her words, and she smiles against his lips. He calls for Ryder, wrapping a hand around the child’s smaller one. Emilie’s heart clenches tightly at the sight. It’s wonderful, amazing, promising so much good in their futures. It’s what Ryder deserves. And this happiness? The contentedness? The potential for a life of love with an amazing man? It’s what _she_ deserves.

With a sigh, Emilie moves away from the bedroom door. Ryder is fast asleep, so impossibly tiny in the middle of the guest mattress, Lionel the lion tucked securely under his arms and a thumb in his mouth. The day has seemed to drain all of his endless energy; between running around in the backyard chasing the football with Niall and Mully, splashing in the pool with Niall keeping him afloat, and the lack of a nap, Ryder didn’t fuss or fight against his bath or bedtime. All he’d asked was that his Ni-Ni read him a story first.

Niall is already turning down the blankets when Emilie enters his bedroom. He grins at her over his shoulder then disappears into the closet; she blinks stupidly for a moment before shrugging it off. She makes her way to the suitcase that sits against the wall, rifling through the rolls of clothes until she sees the familiar plaid. She doesn’t bother going to the bathroom, just strips down to her undergarments right there. Warm hands slide along her waist, and she leans back into Niall, letting her head fall against his shoulder.

I’ve missed you,” she whispers, shivers when his chuckle ghosts against her skin, his lips following close behind. His hold on her tightens, and she lets him lead her toward the bed. “I’m… I’m glad we came.”

Niall’s hands wrap around her wrists, and he tugs her down to sprawl on the mattress next to him. She knows that Ryder is just across the hall, he can wake up at any minute, but she lets her boyfriend cover her body with his, his fingers dance across her skin, lets the fire burn her clean from the inside out.

**[… … …]**

Christmas dawns bright and warm - and far too early. Ryder crawled into the bed between Emilie and Niall at some point in the night, and his knees have been digging into her back for the last hour and a half. So her sleep has been incredibly uncomfortable. She can’t find a reason to be upset, though. She checks the time on her phone; it isn’t even five in the morning, but she’s wide awake now. She rolls over carefully, slowly, hoping to not wake the child.

Thankfully, he’s undisturbed by her movements. Emilie stares at the sleeping pair, and something in her chest tightens with warmth, the desperate wish that this moment would stretch into forever. It’s surprising how little trepidation there is though she knows that everything can go wrong so quickly. A shiver runs along her spine when she thinks about all the potentials that can destroy this bubble of peace, but the fears are muted by the love that courses through her.

Derek was right, all that time ago: Emilie has spent most of her life too afraid to jump headfirst into anything - any_one_ \- that brings her happiness. Time has brought her the wisdom to know that the last attempt at a serious relationship failed because of her own doing. She kept herself too guarded, too closed-off, unwilling to give Jason the kind of love he deserved. He’d been such a wonderful guy, promised to give her the time she needed, but all she wanted was the isolation that came with not being in a relationship. She had Derek and Monica, her family; she thought she didn’t need anyone else. Being with Niall has shown her how wrong she was.

Blue eyes meet hers in the dim lighting of the room, and Emilie smiles, reaching across Ryder to brush Niall’s hair from his face. “Happy Christmas, babe.”

“Best Christmas present ever,” he murmurs through a wide yawn. “How long have you been awake?”

“Only about half an hour. Ry isn’t very considerate to my kidneys when he sleeps.”

Niall lifts his head and smiles down at the child still snoring. “Think we should wake him?”

Emilie nods but makes no move to actually follow through. A small part of her is reluctant to break the serenity of the early morning, content to stay here in bed with the two people who have stolen her heart so effortlessly. The world could be burning to ashes outside of these walls and she wouldn’t care, so long as Niall and Ryder were by her side. Staring down at her godson, she can’t help but feel grateful that she has custody - it’s terrifying to know that every move she makes has the potential to screw him up beyond repair, but she’s selfish enough to admit that her life would be empty without him.

Niall tugs a shirt on while Emilie changes Ryder’s diaper. She huffs out a laugh when her boyfriend scoops the child from her arms, heads for the door without a backwards glance; Niall’s voice trails off, his question of how Ryder slept fading with the distance. Emilie exhales slowly, relishing the domesticity for a moment, then pushes off the bed to change out of her pyjamas.

Dressed in a pair of black wide-legged cotton pants and a tank-top, Emilie hurriedly sends a text message to her family and friends to wish them a happy holiday before putting her phone on silent. Any conversations can be held later. She crosses the room, pulling her hair into a sloppy bun on her way. Voices carry up the stairs, a myriad of tones and pitches and accents, though all of them have one thing in common: Each speaker is in high spirits.

She comes to a stop on the bottom step, stares out at those gathered. Louis is sat on the floor with Freddie, who’s scrutinising Ryder with the seriousness of a child unhappy with the idea of competition for affection and attention. Ryder is far too distracted by the bright lights and shiny baubles on the tree, the massive pile of gifts on the floor, and the way Niall is completely focused on him. Melody, John, and Mully are engrossed in a conversation that Emilie can’t hope to follow. Harry taps away at the screen of his phone, but he looks up as if he senses someone’s attention on him. His face splits with a wide grin, and she gets no warning before he’s bounding over to her, embracing her tightly.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Sleepyhead?” she protests, laughing when he doesn’t release her, keeps her held close to his body. “I’ve been awake for an hour now. Ry and Niall slept longer than I did.”

“Oi, hands off my girl,” Niall calls out; Emilie rolls her eyes at the cheeky grin, though she is thankful that there is no jealousy in his voice or expression.

Harry squeezes her once more then releases her, going back to where he was sat before. Emilie carefully picks her way through the people around the room until she can drop onto the couch beside Niall. He leans over, kisses her forehead, and she lets her head fall to his shoulder. Melody watches them closely; Emilie can’t read the look in her eyes, but she doesn’t let herself question it.

“Let’s open some presents!”

John’s demand serves as a useful distraction: Emilie allows herself to get lost in watching as Mully and Louis pass out the gifts, listening to Ryder and Freddie squeal in delight with each wrapped box placed in front of them, and feeling Niall so solid and present against her side. Even if she hadn’t gotten any presents, this would have still been the best Christmas morning she’s experienced in her adult life.


	25. twenty-five.

“Are you sure?”

Louis pins Emilie with a flat look and pointedly shuts the bedroom door in her face. Niall’s hand tightens around hers, and she reluctantly allows him to pull her toward his room. The holiday festivities finally wound down to an end when the clock struck midnight, though Freddie and Ryder fell asleep hours ago, carried to the guest room by Niall and Louis while Emilie had chatted easily with the others, even Melody.

The other woman seems to be warming up to Emilie’s presence, though Emilie isn’t sure if it’s going to last. The only thing she plans on doing is making sure she doesn’t say anything to make herself look like a fool. Paul, John, and Mully certainly help with that - they keep her laughing too hard to be able to speak.

“I feel bad,” Emilie whispers once she’s curled into Niall’s side under the blankets, and his arm tightens around her. “Louis has to share a bed with two toddlers.”

Niall snorts, presses a kiss to her hair. “Believe me, if he had a problem with it, he woulda told us.”

Emilie sighs and closes her eyes as Niall shifts to get more comfortable. The steady cadence of his breath is comforting, soothing, and she lets it lull her into peacefulness. Her muscles slowly relax, though her mind hasn’t quite caught the memo that it’s time for bed and thoughts to stop racing. She blows out a breath.

“Can we talk?”

Under her ear, his heart-rate kicks up, but his voice remains steady when he says yes. She hesitates then pushes away so that she can meet his eye. The shadows brush the edges of his face a hazy softness, and she catches herself wondering again how she got so lucky.

“I know I’ve apologised already for it, but -”

“Don’t, Em. Just… don’t. Okay? You have nothing to apologise for.” He sighs, his hand gentle as it rubs along her arm. “But for what it’s worth? I think Ryder is fine with being here, even though it’s a new place, and I doubt it’s just because he’s resilient. I think it’s because _you_ made him feel safe and secure enough that he isn’t afraid.”

“I know. He loves it here. He loves being able to be around you. Which is why he keeps ending up in bed with us,” she says on a quiet laugh.

The amusement doesn’t last long; within seconds, Niall’s face loses its smile, and he scratches idly at his hairline. “If you really don’t want to move in, tell me, and I’ll drop it forever. I won’t be angry. We could figure something else out. But, Emilie, I’d really love it if you’d think it over, _really_ think about it, instead of just saying no because you’re scared of fucking Ryder up. Because, darling? That little boy is only as amazing and safe as he is because of you.”

Emilie swallows thickly, but there’s no way to stop the tears that burn in her eyes. She buries her face into his neck; his breath escapes on a soft puff, and Niall rolls onto his side to hold her closer. She tries so hard to not fall apart. It isn’t successful, and she isn’t sure why she is even crying. Admittedly, his words mean the world to her - she’s doubted her ability to care for Ryder since he was born, and those fears have only grown since Danielle was arrested - but they shouldn’t be affecting her like this. She’s stronger than this.

“I’ll think about it,” she promises, her broken whisper swallowed up by the dark of the bedroom and the daunting unknown that awaits, no matter what she chooses.

The next few days catch Emilie constantly wrapped up in her own thoughts. Niall’s words echo in her mind on a loop, assurance and challenge wrapped up in one. It hasn’t gotten any easier to try to make up her mind: Playing house with Niall makes her crave this domesticity in a permanent capacity, but her fears still linger underneath. If something goes wrong, if she and Niall don’t work out... they won’t be the only ones hurt by it. Ryder will be caught in the crossfire and the upheaval of their lives - again.

The more time that passes, though, the harder it is for those doubts to make themselves heard over everything else. And Emilie is so tired. Tired of pretending she doesn’t want what Niall offers, that she’s perfectly content with the current arrangement, that she would be okay if this all fell apart without giving it an honest try.

Derek is no help; she tries to talk to him about it via a FaceTime call, but the only thing he says is she better not come back to Austin unless it’s to pack. He does nothing to help her sort out her thoughts, nothing to assuage any fears she confesses. Monica, however, spends half an hour on the phone with Emilie, and with their brainpower combined, they come up with a pros and cons list. Emilie can’t deny that the pro column is much, much, _much_ longer than the con.

Staring at Niall from across the room, the sound of their friends laughing and talking, the kids screeching with delight as they run around and demand attention, Emilie allows herself to make the decision. It’s really the only choice that makes sense. Someone bumps into her, and she drags her gaze away from him, smiling in thanks at the glass that Paul shoves into her hand. Everyone is already drunk, and Emilie wishes she could join in. But there are two toddlers who require supervision, so she’s stuck with mostly sparkling juice.

Lewis wraps an arm around her shoulder, grinning widely. “Glad you could make it.”

“So am I. I’d hate to miss this much drunken fun. I mean, when else am I going to see John and Paul having a twerking competition? Oh, and now my boyfriend has joined in. Fantastic.”

“He’s going to hate that,” he remarks lightly, and Emilie smiles even as she continues recording the men’s antics. “Send it to me.”

Lewis rattles off his phone number once the dancing has stopped, and Emilie sends the video before slipping her phone back into her pocket. She winks conspiratorially at the singer and slips through the crowd to refill her glass then make her way to her boyfriend’s side. Niall had mentioned before she arrived that his friends would want to congregate here at his - something about them wanting to meet Ryder and see Emilie again - but she didn’t expect ten extra people to be in the house. _At least they’ve all been pleasant_, she thinks as she steals a sip from Niall’s beer, nearly spitting out the mouthful with a laugh when Niall and Lewis all but fall against each other, kissing quickly before launching into song.

Louis catches her eye when the first tantrum starts; she didn’t see what acted as the catalyst, but everyone notices the boys slapping at each other. She sets her drink on the counter and hurries to help Louis separate Ryder and Freddie. Both kids pout and fuss, though they aren’t successful in their attempts to get free. She carries Ryder over to Niall, and her boyfriend instantly puts his drink aside to hold the fretting child. Emilie swallows the lump in her throat as Ryder melts into Niall’s arms.

She gestures for Louis to rejoin the party downstairs, and he hesitates but ultimately ducks out of the room. Freddie whines quietly when his father disappears, but Emilie shushes him with gentle hands. The music has lowered, only the faintest strains reaching her ears now, and she settles in between the two toddlers and hums under her breath. It doesn’t take long for their breathing to even out, faces going lax in sleep. She kisses their foreheads then gingerly crawls off the bed.

“They asleep now?” Melody asks as Emilie flops down onto the couch next to her. “Niall loves that boy.”

“That’s what Mully said, too.”

“It’s easy to see why. He’s a good kid.”

Emilie has no idea what to say to that, so she nods succinctly and stares down at her hands. Melody huffs out a laugh, pushes to her feet. After checking that Emilie doesn’t need a drink, the other woman saunters off to find someone else to have a conversation with. Emilie gazes around at everyone gathered in the living room. Drunk they may be, but they all are making concerted efforts to speak quietly. That isn’t to say there aren’t the occasional loud bursts of laughter or good-natured ribbing, it’s just... softer than what it could be.

Niall appears in front of her an hour later as everyone stands, the last minutes of the year ticking away. He tugs her to her feet, kisses her with abandon amidst the protests from the others. Melody’s voice is loudest, telling them to knock it off and wait for the ball to drop. Someone makes a crude joke about balls dropping, which sends everyone into uproarious laughter; Emilie, drunk off the kiss and not giving a damn about anything other than the heat that flares in her veins, flips them off over Niall’s shoulder and pulls him closer.

The party winds down shortly after the strike of midnight and another liplock between Lewis and Niall; Louis uses his fatherhood as an excuse to go to bed, and Emilie and Niall shamelessly latch onto that reason as well. She rushes through washing the few dishes that sit in the sink while the others gather up the empty bottles and cans. Within the half-hour, there isn’t any reason to linger downstairs any longer, so she laces her fingers with Niall’s and ignores the catcalls that come from behind them as she leads him up the stairs. All she can think about is just how good of a start this new year is going to have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was meant to be posted an hour ago, but i got up at 6 so i could be stood in line at the shops by 7:30 all for toilet roll. it was the most chaotic yet organised shopping trip i have ever been involved in. i was in the shop two minutes after it opened, and _still_ most things were already off the shelves. ridiculoussss. anyway. i may or may not post an extra chapter tomorrow simply because i need something to take my mind off this self-imposed quarantine (not ill at all, but definitely not wanting to run the risk of contracting anything) while my kids are home from school.


	26. twenty-six.

The only conversation comes from the toddlers at the table, the adults eating in silence except to mutter out a request for someone to pass food or coffee their way. Emilie stifles a smile at how utterly hungover everyone is. Even after Niall fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, she’d lain awake, staring at his sleeping face and hoping that time would stop so she could stay in that moment forever. But the seconds had ticked away, and so she had closed her eyes with the image of the love of her life imprinted in her mind.

She and Louis were the first two awake this morning, aside from the kids, and he kept Ryder and Freddie entertained while she cooked enough breakfast to feed a small army - which isn’t too far off from the amount of people sat at the table. It hadn’t taken more than twenty minutes for the others to start shuffling their way into the kitchen at the smell of bacon and coffee. Not one of them gave her more than a cursory look, Niall included, but she hadn’t minded, only stepped out of the way so they could load their plates.

Niall nudges a fork closer to her, and she shakes her head. She’d eaten while cooking, so she is content enough to just sit here. Her words coat her tongue, beg to be released, ready to unleash themselves and be heard. She bites them back. It isn’t time for that, not yet. Hopefully, it won’t take much longer.

Emilie waits until their friends are sprawled out all over the living room to catch Niall’s attention. He frowns but dutifully follows her up to the bedroom; only John lets out a half-hearted whistle as they disappear. She closes the door behind them and rolls her eyes when she sees the hopeful light in Niall’s eyes.

“Not happening, sir. But... I wanted to talk to you away from everyone else.” She sighs and sits on the edge of the mattress. “I’ve been thinking, like you asked me to do. And I think I’ve made up my mind. But Niall, I need you to be a hundred percent sure about this. About us moving in.”

“Of course I am.”

Blowing out a breath, Emilie forces herself to meet his gaze; there’s nothing in the blue to make her think he’s taking this lightly. “Ryder, he means everything to me. He _is_ everything to me, and if it turns out that you can’t handle it - I mean, I know you know this, considering all the times he’s come first, but it’s different when it’s twenty-four-seven... I need you to promise me that you’ll tell me immediately if it turns out this isn’t something you want.

“I, I won’t be angry. Yeah, it’ll hurt like Hell, but I know that in time, I’ll accept that it was for the best. The last thing I ever want to do is force you to be with me if you’re not happy.” Emilie pauses, looks at Niall directly. His brows are drawn tightly over his eyes, but she can see the slight glimmer of something - hope? - behind the clear blue. “You deserve to be with someone you love and can have a future with, and if that ends up not being me... okay. Because you feeling like you’re stuck with me is not what I want our relationship to be. So, can you promise me that? That you’ll tell me straight-up that you’re unhappy and want out if it comes to that?”

“I swear,” he murmurs quietly, the word nearly inaudible in the silence though they’re sat not even a foot apart. Emilie reaches for his hand, linking their fingers together, and he presses a kiss to her knuckles, speaking more firmly now. “I swear on everything important in my life that I will let you know if I ever want to break up.”

“Then… yes.”

“What?”

“Yes, Ryder and I will move in with you.”

“Em - are you serious? Please tell me you’re serious. I swear, if you’re fucking with me -”

“I’m serious, babe. Why would I lie about this?”

She barely gets the words out before Niall is launching himself at her, pinning her between his body and the mattress; the kiss is sloppy, disrupted by the ecstatic laughter that bubbles from them both, but Emilie buries her hands in Niall’s hair, pulls him closer, and lets herself fly with the lightness that diffuses through her entire being.

“Mully!”

Emilie winces as Niall shouts, then he’s abruptly off the bed. She sits up and watches him bound toward the door, socked feet skidding slightly on the floor as he goes. Giggling to herself, she follows after him; she’s just reached the bottom of the stairs when he glances at her, seems to realise that he left her alone in his rush. He gives her a sheepish grin but doesn’t apologise, instead turning back to their friends.

“She _finally_ said yes.”

“We have a new roommate?” Mully asks, and Emilie would be surprised at the excitement in his voice if she wasn’t distracted by the loud cheers that rise up.

Even Melody looks thrilled by the news, which definitely shocks Emilie - the tentative truce that they’ve maintained since Christmas hadn’t implied that the other woman would be happy about the next step in Emilie’s relationship with Niall. She doesn’t question it, though. The fact that she has finally made up her mind, stopped letting fears and doubts control her, is too good to ignore.

The cheering quiets when everyone notices Ryder and Freddie clapping and squealing along with them. Both boys have confused expressions on their faces, but they very enthusiastically celebrate the event even though they don’t understand what’s going on. Emilie shakes her head, laughing, and crosses the room to scoop Ryder up into her arms. He presses a slobbery kiss to her cheek.

“Hey, buddy, wanna live here with Ni-Ni and Mister Sean?”

“Ni-Ni!”

“I think that’s a yes!” Louis calls out; Emilie doesn’t get a chance to respond before Niall is pulling Ryder out of Emilie’s hold, spinning the toddler in circles and making him screech. Louis nudges her when she sits beside him on the couch. “You’ve just made his entire year.”

Emilie stares at her boyfriend, the brilliant smile that splits his face as he listens to Ryder and Freddie chattering over each other, the light in his eyes that could illuminate the entire world if she could just harness it. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep. _another_ chapter~


	27. twenty-seven.

Monica instantly tugs Ryder out of Emilie’s arms the instant she is able to, and Emilie huffs out a laugh but turns to hug Derek tightly. He allows it for a moment then pushes her back a step. She knows what he is going to say before he even opens his mouth.

“I thought I told you not to think of coming back if it ain’t to pack your shit and go.”

“You are the worst friend I’ve ever had, did you know that?” She leans into his side, wraps her arm around his lower back, and leads the group toward baggage claim. “How was your holiday?”

Derek sighs, scrubs a hand over his face. “You had the right idea of not visiting family. Dad kept asking if I’d gotten a real job yet, Mom demanded that I bring home a girl next time I visit, and Mimi? She decided to get drunk and do the Charleston in just her delicates - again.”

“Oh, that sounds awful, D. Anything good happen at all?”

“Yeah, I guess. I got a new pair of socks. Honestly, your FaceTime on Christmas was the only highlight of the last week of my life.”

“I’m glad I could make it better in some small way. How about yours, Mon?”

As Monica talks about her Christmas with her family (“Thank fuck Abuelita hosts, or there’s no way we’d all be able to get together like that”), Emilie gathers up her luggage and turns toward the exit. Derek presses in closer to her; his face is set in a deep scowl when she glances up at him, and she follows his gaze to see a girl a few years younger than them taking pictures. Sighing inwardly, Emilie pretends she didn’t notice, pretends like her privacy isn’t being violated.

Niall, Mully, Harry... hell, even Melody warned her this would happen now. One picture of her and Mully at the liquor store that went viral on the internet, and now everyone knows of Emilie’s connection to Niall. She had wondered why it didn’t happen sooner, but Melody had smiled grimly and told her not to question it or she’d drive herself nuts. Emilie is still shocked that the woman asked to exchange numbers before Paul drove Emilie and Ryder to the airport.

“Want any help unpacking?” Derek asks as they make their way through the corridors to Emilie’s door.

She shakes her head. “Nah, but I will probably need help packing.”

She unlocks the door and steps inside only to figure out she’s the only one doing so. She pokes her head out into the hall, flashes an innocent smile at their shocked faces. Monica and Derek exchange a look. The dam breaks.

Their voices overlap, and Emilie has a hard time understanding the questions being hurled at her. Derek practically tosses the suitcases through the door and turns on his heel, speed-walking back the way they came, shouting over his shoulders that he’s going to go get boxes and he wants details when he gets back.

It isn’t until she’s stood in front of her dresser, staring down at the open drawers, that Emilie realises she has no idea what to pack and how she’s going to get to LA again. She walks out of her room, and Monica looks up from the dinosaurs in her hands. Emilie opens her mouth then closes it again.

“I don’t know what to do.”

She will never be more grateful for Monica’s friendship than she is in this moment: Monica immediately sets the toys aside, kisses Ryder’s forehead, and pushes past Emilie. The other woman is upending the drawers onto Emilie’s bed by the time she enters the room again.

“I’m assuming he has a bed, considering he’s a grown-ass adult, so you won’t need that. Furniture can probably all stay here because, again, he’s an adult and has his own. So I think you only need to bring clothes and whatever hygiene stuff you use, makeup, that kind of stuff. Where the Hell are all your clothes?” she asks loudly after disappearing into the closet.

“I packed them for the holidays. Well, what I had left after I donated most of them to the women’s shelter. I got tired of seeing them in there going unworn.”

“Aw, you’re such a sweetheart. Okay, so we can empty your suitcases, wash them, and re-pack them. What do you wanna do with your books?”

Emilie stares at the bookshelf. A few of the books on the shelves are the most important books she’s ever read and can’t be left behind, but a majority of them are ones that she has picked up over the years but never had a real connection with. She crosses her room to grab the handful of novels that she wants to take with her. Monica starts folding clothing, preparing them for being packed, while Emilie sets the books on the mattress then heads out to the entry hall where the suitcases remain.

Her phone rings from the kitchen, and she starts the washing machine and scoops up the device, automatically pressing the accept button. Her mother’s face fills the screen; Emilie’s heart clenches at the sight of Rose’s wide smile. She perches on the stool and rests her head on her free hand.

“Heya, Mom!”

“Hey, sweetie, just wanted to make sure you made it home all right. You didn’t text me like you promised.”

“So sorry! I’ve been kinda busy.”

Her mother frowns, shifts to do something on her end of the video chat. “Already? Darling, you just got back. It’s supposed to be a day of being lazy.”

“Yeah,” Emilie replies, drawing out the vowels. “Hey, mind if I add Dad to this call? There’s something I wanna talk to both of y’all about.”

“Go ahead. Add your mama, too.”

“I really hate multiple lines on one call, but okay.”

Thankfully, all three of her parents are available for the FaceTime call, and Emilie stares at them for a long minute as they greet each other; the conversation between Paige and Jackson is stilted, awkward in the wake of their divorce, but they manage to be pleasant to each other nonetheless. Eventually, she knows she can’t put it off any longer, so Emilie clears her throat.

“Hi, thanks for joining me for this meeting. I truly appreciate it.” At Jackson’s exasperated eye-roll, Emilie giggles and squirms to get more comfortable on the stool. “So. As you all know, Ry and I went to stay with my boyfriend over the holidays. It was amazing, it… it truly was. But my, uh, my Christmas present was Niall asking me and Ryder to move in with him. And I, I kinda said yes.”

The silence from her parents reigns deafeningly over the lines, and Emilie forces a smile as she waits for their response. Ryder toddles over, tugs on the end of her sweatshirt. She looks down, stifling a giggle at his confused yet demanding expression.

“My Ni-Ni?”

“No, baby, I’m not talking to your Ni-Ni, I’m sorry. I’m talking to Mamaw, Pop-Pop, and Nonna Rose.”

“Oh. No Ni-Ni.”

He pouts and goes back to his toys, shoulders slumped. Emilie can’t help the chuckle that escapes her, and when she glances back at her phone screen, all three of her parents wear similar, soft-edged smiles. She shrugs and taps her fingernails against the countertop.

“Ry really loves Niall.”

“When are you moving?” Jackson asks, while Paige says, “I really love this kid, and I ain’t even met him yet.”

“He’s so wonderful, Mama, you’ll adore him when you meet him. And Dad, we planned on leaving here on the twelfth. It’ll give us the entire weekend to make the drive.”

Rose splutters, “You’re driving the whole way?”

“It’s not that far,” Emilie counters then pauses. “I think?”

“It’s about twenty-one hours,” her dad supplies.

“Are you sure about this, Em?” Paige questions, voice quiet and non-confrontational.

Emilie sighs and stares down at the counter. Is she? Is _Niall_? Before the doubts can creep in, she reminds herself of how ecstatic he was to hear her answer, how everyone had cheered and celebrated and congratulated them, how happy he’s made her since the day they met. It’s answer enough.

“Yeah, I’m a hundred percent sure.”

“Then you best make sure you come to Corpus so we can have our Christmas before you go.”

“How about this weekend?”

“That works for me.” Paige blows out a breath when a shrieking noise sounds from her end. “Marybeth, you put that angel down right now! You know Mamaw doesn’t allow you to mess with them. Ah, hell… Okay, I have to go. Marybeth is liable to kill someone with this damn figurine. I love you, and I’ll see you this weekend.”

“Love you, too, Mama.”

But Paige has already hung up, her face disappearing from the screen. Rose’s gaze is heavy and scrutinising even through the video, and it takes all of Emilie’s willpower to not confess to any wrong-doing she’s ever done in her entire life under the weight of that stare. Then her mother’s smile takes over her face, dark eyes bright with tears but shining with happiness.

“I’m proud of you, sweetie, and I really hope this Niall kid treats you right.”

“Thanks, Mom. He… he’s more than I deserve.”

“Bullshit,” interjects Jackson, snorting. “You’re more than _he_ deserves, and he damn well better treat you like it.”

“Dad, he treats me great. He treats Ry great, too. Really. There was no hesitation when he asked me to move in even though he knew it meant Ry would be coming along. Sorry, guys, but I have to go, okay? Need to feed Ry and finish packing. I love you.”

Emilie hangs up after they say their goodbyes and sighs. It’s real now. Her family and best friends know she’s moving, and she can’t back out. Well, she could, but that decision would come with an onslaught of questions as to why she’s changing her mind without reason. She closes her eyes for just a minute then pushes herself to her feet. She has things to do, and each item crossed off the list means she’s one step closer to being back in the arms of the man she’ll love for the rest of her life.


	28. twenty-eight.

Ryder asks every day over the next week and a half about Niall and gets upset when he’s told it isn’t time to see him yet, but somehow they manage to make it through. The alarm goes off at four a.m. on the twelfth, though Emilie is already awake, unable to sleep any longer than an hour or so with the move on her mind - and on the horizon. She makes sure the toddler is still asleep then makes her way to the kitchen to make coffee.

Monica arrives less than twenty minutes later, carrying a box of pastries from the coffeeshop and a shopping bag full of snacks for the drive. “Derek says he’s sorry he can’t be here to see us off, but he wants hourly updates on our location and well-being.”

“How are you getting back?” Emilie asks as she fills a thermos with coffee.

“Plane, duh. I am so not making this drive twice.”

“I’ll pay you back for the ticket.”

“No need. Your man kinda already did.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, I kinda got his number from your phone the other day when you were in the bathroom, texted him and told him I was your bestie along with Derek, and if he hurt you, we’d make him understand why that was a terrible decision. Then I mentioned that we’d be meeting in person because I was coming along so you didn’t die on the drive. He offered to pay for a ticket back. I didn’t ask him!” she says, hands raising in defence. “He _offered_. I tried telling him no, that I could do it myself, but…”

“He’s a bit stubborn, yeah.” Emilie sighs and checks the time. “Okay. Fine, I’ll have this talk with him when I get there. I’m gonna get Ry ready to go.”

“I’ll start carrying things to your car.”

“You’re amazing, thanks.”

Diapered and changed into a clean pair of pyjamas, Ryder sits in his high-chair as Emilie double-checks that the safe is empty, its contents now in a manila envelope in her laptop bag, and that the diaper-bag is stocked up and ready to be put in the car.

Monica carries the child out to the Explorer while Emilie makes sure the balcony door and the windows are locked and everything is unplugged. The flat still looks the same - the difference is in the bedroom and empty closets - but it feels so much more different, knowing she won’t be coming back to Austin for a long time.

She shakes off the thoughts, grabs her purse and keys, and steps out into the hall. The lock slides into place with a resounding click that echoes with finality.

**[-_-_-_-]**

“I really thought this would be harder,” Monica announces when Emilie arrives back at the car.

They’ve been driving for almost ten hours now, switching off who’s behind the wheel every couple of hours, making sure to stretch their legs whenever they need to refill the fuel tank. Ryder has been unusually quiet in the backseat, and multiple times, the women have checked that he was still breathing. Emilie wonders if this is just a side effect of the instability he’s had to endure in his short life, which opens the door to questioning just what he went through whenever his existence interfered in Danielle’s plans.

“Shut up, you’ll jinx it. Here, grabbed you a coffee.”

Monica grimaces as she swallows down a mouthful. “Fuck, why couldn’t we have brought the coffeeshop with us?”

“Don’t remind me I’ll not be going there any more.” Emilie pouts and leans against the side of the car, ducking down to catch a glimpse of Ryder sleeping in his seat. “Mon, I truly appreciate this.”

Monica grins brightly, reaches out to tug Emilie in for a tight hug. No words are spoken until after they’ve slid back into their seats, and even then it’s just to make sure they’re both ready to be back on the road. Emilie leans back in her seat and pulls out her phone. Deciding it’s far too annoying to text individually for the tenth time, she creates a group chat with Derek, her parents, and - against her better instincts - Niall.

  
**Emilie says:** Hey, my fav loves everrrrrr. Sorry, I know it’s bound to get a bit hectic but my fingers are too tired to type five separate texts saying the exact same damn thing so hi, be nice to Niall, and Niall, ignore the weirdos, focus on me! I’m the cute one!! Anyway, we’re about ten hours into the drive, my ass is numb, Ryder is happily asleep and being a good kiddo. Just got through Las Cruces and have aboutttttt 11ish hours of driving to go, not including any stops we have to make. I’m gonna try to catch some zzz for a bit, but I’ll update you all as soon as I can! Hugs, kisses, and all that gross stuff xxxxxxxxx   


Emilie exhales shakily; she only hopes that she hasn’t fed poor Niall to the wolves by including him in the group message, but she tries to have faith that he’ll be fine. She closes her eyes and lets her mind wander. Between the music on the radio and the mind-numbing boringness of the long drive, it isn’t difficult for her to doze off.

Ryder stops being so easygoing about the long drive around the sixteen-hour mark. Monica grimaces when his screeches grow in volume, and Emilie signals to pull over to the side of the highway. She passes the bag of snacks and a water bottle to her friend once Monica is buckled into the seat next to the toddler. Unfortunately, Monica’s presence does nothing to placate him; Emilie rests her forehead against the steering wheel and tries to stem the frustrated, exhausted tears. She should have known this would happen.

They’ve stopped every three hours, almost on the dot, but there’s still much longer to go. She almost regrets this decision - not the moving in with Niall part, but the “driving the entire way with a literal child in the backseat” part. Monica pats her shoulder comfortingly, assures her everything is going to be okay; worse comes to worst, they’ll get a hotel room for the night. Emilie blows out a breath and starts to put the car in gear when a trooper pulls up behind her. She immediately rolls down the window, puts both hands on the wheel, sits up straight, and waits.

“Ma’am, everything okay?” he asks once he’s approached the window, ducking a bit to peer into the backseat. He winces as Ryder lets out another shriek.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just had to pull over so my friend could get back there to calm m-my son down, that’s all.”

“Where you comin’ from?”

“Austin, heading to California.”

“Ooh, long drive. All right, well, drive safe. Remember to stop for the night if you get too tired.”

“I will. Thanks.”

Emilie waits until he’s pulled back onto the highway, blue lights flashing once before he’s gone. She catches Monica’s eye in the rear-view mirror. “I’m surprised he didn’t think I kidnapped Ry with how he’s carrying on back there.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, babe, just go.”

Ryder calms down after another hour, slowly growing quiet until that’s left are the smallest of whimpers before he starts snoring. Emilie adjusts the volume on the radio while Monica apologises and clambers over the middle console to drop into the passenger seat. Emilie purses her lips at the unsafe behaviour but doesn’t say anything. Stopping again might have woken Ry, and that is the last thing she wants right now, so she accepts that Monica’s actions might be reckless but it is what it is.

By the time Emilie pulls up behind Mully’s car outside of the fence, she’s been driving for almost seven hours straight, and her entire body aches. She blinks rapidly to clear the dryness from her eyes, though it’s unsuccessful, then reaches over to shake Monica awake.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Monica startles, drawing in a sharp breath as she jerks to full awareness, and her gaze darts across their surroundings. She glares at Emilie when she realises _here_ means their final destination. “Why didn’t you wake me and make me take over?”

“Because I just wanted to get this damn drive over. It’s been almost twenty-seven hours, and I’m exhausted, so I stopped just long enough to get fuel and pee. That’s it. Can you please text my boyfriend and tell him we’re here? I think my body is giving up on me.”

Monica does as asked, and Emilie drops her head forward. She’s pretty sure she might actually have fallen asleep for a few minutes, but she comes back to earth at the sound of doors opening and closing, Ryder giggling, and warm fingers combing gently through her hair. She groans and turns her head, forces her eyes open to see Niall standing there.

“C’mon, love, let’s get you to bed.”

She mumbles something nonsensical - she isn’t even sure what she’s trying to say - but Niall only pushes her back into the seat and leans across her to unbuckle her belt. She leans heavily into his side as he guides her up the walk and into the house. Voices, muffled by her exhaustion, come from all around her, but she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other even as her legs threaten to give out with each step. The world sways around her, and abruptly, the floor slides out from under her feet. She’s enveloped by warmth, sturdiness, and she melts into it, though she can’t place why the scent is all wrong.


	29. twenty-nine.

Paul sets Emilie’s sleeping body on the bed, and Niall thanks him and watches him leave. He’d been terrified when she started swaying so dangerously on her feet, but Paul had been there in the blink of an eye, catching her before she hit the floor and carrying her up the stairs. He sits on the edge of the bed, pushes her hair from her face.

Long lashes fan out against the dark circles under her eyes, and Niall wonders how much sleep she got before starting the drive. She made jokes about being tired with each update she sent, but she hadn’t let on that it was this bad. A timid knock sounds at the door. He looks away from Emilie to see her friend there. Monica smiles slightly.

“Hey, how is she?”

“She’s asleep.” He glances back at his girlfriend. “I don’t think she’ll wake any time soon.”

“She was really excited to see you, that’s the only reason she didn’t stop and get a room for the night.”

“I didn’t want her to put herself at risk like that.”

Monica snorts, scrubbing at her dark eyes with a hand that trembles - whether it’s from her own fatigue or what, Niall isn’t sure. “She’s stubborn, what can I say. It’s a wonder you two get along.”

Niall huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. She isn’t wrong - he has his moments of pure stubbornness, and it has been a problem a few times. Hell, it’s caused the end of a relationship or two. He shifts to run his fingers through Emilie’s hair, his thumb tracing the arch of her eyebrow with a feather-light touch. Her nose scrunches just slightly, then she pushes further into the contact, sighs heavily as the rest of the tension leaves her body. Monica coughs quietly from the doorway, startling Niall; he’d forgotten she was there.

“Okay, I’m gonna be honest. I know I told you that she’s a wonderful person and you’d regret ever hurting her, but… she really is amazing. She’s got her flaws, sure. She can be bullheaded, temperamental, she can lash out when she’s been hurt, and fuck, her pride can get her in a lot of trouble. But she’s also the most wonderfully kind, caring, loyal person I have ever met.” She gestures to the bed, and Niall nods numbly; she sits on the end and pins him a searching look. “She won’t admit it, not quite fully, but she gave you her heart. The minute you met Ryder, it was only a matter of time before her brain caught up with her heart, and she’s given it to you on a silver fucking platter.

“I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want _you_ to get hurt. I actually kinda like you, and it isn’t because you bought a plane ticket for me to get back home. You make her happy, and she deserves that. You deserve to be happy, too. I’m not sure what my point is, I’m too tired to think straight, but I _think_ it's that I will kill for this girl and that little boy who’s currently downstairs wrapping your friends around his tiny little finger. Please don’t hurt them.”

“I won’t,” he promises, and the honesty in the conversation would be terrifying if he didn’t feel as strongly for Emilie as he does.

“Good. You’d be dumb to let this one go. Like, dumb beyond words.”

“Definitely not planning on it.” He hesitates, stares at the heaviness, the swath of bone-deep weariness that covers Monica’s face. “Do you wanna nap?”

“Oh, god, can I? Wait, what about Ry?”

“I’ll take care of him. Go ahead, you can sleep in here. I’ll make sure you two aren’t bothered.”

“Have I mentioned that I kinda like you?” she mumbles as she stretches out next to her best friend.

Niall chuckles softly and crosses the room, pulling the door closed behind him. The amusement melts away within an instant. He hates that Emilie pushed herself too far just to get here. He’s been looking forward to this day since before she even said yes to moving in, but it isn’t worth her health, her _life_. He blows out a breath that is far too tremulous then makes his way down the stairs.

Ryder turns wheres he’s sat on Mully’s knees, shrieking happily when he sees Niall, and Niall knows it’s too late - no matter what doubts he might have had, he’s fallen too far to ever turn back now. He scoops the child up into his arms and buried his face in Ryder’s soft hair. Ryder snuggles closer; his animated chatter slows, and Niall feels a jagged edge in his soul smooth out and fit perfectly into place.

**[_-_-_-_]**

Emilie groans low in her throat and rolls onto her belly, tugging the pillow over her face to block out the bright sunshine that’s woken her. Her body aches, muscles tight with tension, and there’s a pounding in her skull that only increases the longer she’s conscious. She tries her damnedest to fall back asleep, but the cramping in her belly tells her she needs to use the toilet and eat immediately. With a sigh, she pushes the pillow away, opens her eyes.

Monica is sat up, leaning against the headboard while she messes about on her phone, and she grins when she sees her friend awake. “Morning, Sleeping Beauty. You had us worried.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Emilie grumbles as she pushes herself to sit up, her head swimming with the movement.

“You damn near passed out and collapsed after we got here. That big hunky dude had to carry you to bed. And you slept hard.”

“What time is it?”

“It’s a little after one.”

“Shit. Ry -“

“Is being wonderfully taken care of by your fantastic boyfriend.” Monica squeezes her hand then clambers off the bed. “C’mon before everyone thinks you’ve turned into a Disney princess and only true love’s kiss can revive you.”

“You’re weird.”

Emilie does as she’s told, though. Five hours of sleep isn’t enough, her body is screaming that, but she can’t exactly sleep the day away. So she stops by the bathroom to use the toilet and run wet fingers through her hair, forcing it into some semblance of presentable. She’s just glad she brushed her teeth in the station lavatory during the last stop for petrol.

Monica leads her downstairs and through the house; Emilie would be surprised that her best friend knows where she’d going, except that Monica is far too chipper for having just woken up, which means she’s had the chance to explore a bit.

Emilie’s favourite people come into view as the pair steps out onto the patio; Paul and Mully stop their conversation long enough to greet her and give her warm hugs. She murmurs an apology to Paul, but he waves it off, tells her it wasn’t a problem, he’s just thankful she’s safe. John, Melody, and Louis wave from where they sit on the steps leading to the yard. She waves idly back, distracted by the sight of Niall jogging around with two little kids chasing after him.

Ryder has been changed from his Paw Patrol footie pyjamas into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and Emilie’s heart clenches at his delighted laughter. He sounds so happy. Freddie sees her first, and his trajectory changes, no longer following Niall but aimed directly toward her. She steps down off the step, the grass warm and prickly under her feet, and catches him as he launches himself at her.

“Hey, there. You having fun?”

“Yeah!”

He starts babbling about playing with his Uncle Niall, and Emilie listens as much as she can. It isn’t long before she’s joined by Ryder. She’s shocked when he patiently waits for his turn to be held, so she releases Freddie and gathers up her godson. Niall presses a kiss to her cheek on his way past, and she pouts that that’s all she gets. She sets Ryder down with a suggestion that he and Freddie play together for a few minutes while she talks to the grown-ups.

He frowns but is persuaded by the Mickey Mouse ball in Freddie’s hands to toddle after the other child. Louis calls out a warning for the kids to stay near the patio, and Emilie makes her way to the table. Niall holds out his arm as she nears, tugging her into his side the second he’s able. As she sits there in the sunshine, surrounded by her friends - both old and new- she finds herself being lulled into peace by the conversations, and she embraces the feeling of being home.


	30. thirty.

Golden-orange blankets over the backyard, birds giving out their last calls of the day. The chill in the air is negligible in the face of the bright laughter and conversations that overlap each other. Emilie rests her chin on her palm and watches as Ryder and Freddie chase each other around the patio, occasionally stopping to grab a grape or strawberry slice off the platter on the table.

Louis plops down into the empty seat next to her, passes over a beer. She huffs out a laugh and shakes her head, accepting it with a small smile. He clinks the neck of his bottle against hers; she takes a sip and sighs.

“Is it weird that I’m not even homesick?” she asks in an undertone, not wanting to disrupt the easy peacefulness around them.

Louis cocks his head and reaches out to catch Freddie as he pitches forward. “Careful. And no, I don’t think it’s weird,” he says after his son has run off again. “You’ve not been here for even a full day. It might hit later.”

“That’s helpful,” she laughs, and Louis nudges her, chuckling.

“I’m just saying. I know when we were touring, the homesickness was _constant_, but that’s probably because we didn’t really have a home except for the bus. At least here... you’ll have a home with Niall for as long as you want it.”

“Now _that_ is helpful.”

If her voice sounds choked-up and fragile to him as it does her, he doesn’t mention it. He turns his head so she can wipe at her eyes in privacy. They sit side-by-side in silence, and Emilie looks around at the people gathered; Monica seems to have made herself right at home with Niall’s group of friends, laughing and joking as easily as if she was talking to Emilie or Derek.

Niall approaches, leans down to kiss her cheek. Emilie leans back against him and exhales slowly. Every doubt, fear, and worry has melted into nonexistence, and she wonders why she ever let them control her decision-making for so long. An illuminated phone screen pops up in the edge of her vision. She glances at the time, nods up at her boyfriend, and swallows another mouthful of beer.

“I think it’s almost bedtime,” she calls out, and Ryder comes to a stop. She can’t stop the laugh at his offended expression. “Nope, no arguing, sweetie. You need a bath, and then it’s off to bed.”

“Want me to get him?”

Emilie shakes her head at Monica’s question, but it’s Niall who answers, “Nah, I can do it.”

“Babe -”

“Nope, no arguing, sweetie.”

“Don’t use my words against me,” Emilie mutters with a glower that lacks any heat.

He brushes his lips against hers, the softest touch, then he’s off, scooping Ryder up into his arms. He holds a hand out to Freddie, and the trio disappear into the house. Monica catches her eye from down the table, tilts her head in question. Emilie shakes her head and smiles.

The moon has begun peeking over the horizon by the time Niall and the kids come back out onto the patio. Ryder clambers up into Emilie’s lap and immediately leans into her. A shuddering sigh escapes him, and she glances down to see his eyes are closed. Niall shrugs when she looks at him.

“He said he wanted to say goodnight to everybody.”

“Didja hit him over the head with a tack hammer or something? Because he is _out_.”

Emilie snorts at Monica and stands, shifting the child more securely against her. She follows Niall into the house, up the stairs. He bypasses the guest room, coming to a stop in front of a door closer to his own bedroom - _their_ bedroom - and pushes the door open. She steps inside and freezes.

The room is on the smaller side, comparatively, the space interrupted by a toddler bed; the cartoon faces of Chase, Skye, Rubble, and Marshal smile from the footboard of the frame. A matching chest of drawers sits against the wall across from the bed. Toy bins line the wall by the door, and a net hangs in the corner, filled with stuffed animals. A bookcase is off to the side, stocked with books for children, Lionel the Lion is tucked into the Paw Patrol bedsheets.

Niall ignores the wide-eyed stare from Emilie, taking Ryder from her arms and carrying him to the bed. She feels an awful lot like the Grinch when his heart grew three sizes as she watches how carefully Niall tucks the toddler in. His movements are gentle, slow, and she lets out a shaky breath, turns to leave the room while Niall murmurs quietly to the sleeping child.

As she makes her way through the house, the little things catch her attention, details tiny enough to not register on her initial walk-through after her nap: A baby-gate leans against the wall at the top of the stairs, and corners of the walls that jut out have been covered with strips of rubber. The rug on the stairs is new, thick in ways that don’t happen unless it’s unused. Childproof locks hang from the handles of the lower cupboards in the kitchen.

“You baby-proofed,” she whispers when Niall joins her. Her lower lip trembles, and she clenches her jaw to prevent the emotions from spilling over. “You guys actually baby-proofed.”

“We were up all night making sure there wasn’t anything Ryder could hurt himself on,” Mully complains, ambling through the door from the patio, but the laugh in his voice is evident.

Emilie thinks for a second that he’s being hyperbolic, just for a second, but that assumption is dispelled when Niall scowls and swats at his friend.

“Shut up, you coulda went to bed whenever you wanted.”

Emilie laces her fingers with her boyfriend’s, steps closer to him. The irritation on his face fades away, and she’s left staring at a soft-edged smile, eyes that hold so much. She can’t wrap her mind around the absurd knowledge that he’s hers. It’s still so fantastic though she has had months to grow accustomed to the fact that she’s no longer alone, she has someone who cares for her - and what’s more, he cares for _Ryder_.

“Thank you.”

The kiss he gives her makes her head spin. She inhales shakily, breath coming out on an airy giggle as he calls out a goodnight to everyone, and follows him back upstairs. Her heart screams so loudly she fears he might hear it: _I love you I love you I love you_. She hurts with how much she loves him. It fills every empty space she has ever carried with her, smooths out the negative edges.

Emilie trails her fingertip along his collarbone, memorising the feel of skin and hair and metal chain. Niall’s hand rubs a circle into her back, and she lets him pull her closer into his side. She shivers when the air-con kicks on.

“You didn’t have to buy him all that,” she whispers before pressing her lips to his shoulder.

His fingers spasm against her spine, but he only lets out a heavy breath, clears his throat quietly. “He needs his own room, yeah? And what good is a bedroom if you don’t have a bed? And you can’t have a bed without other bedroom furniture, or it would just look ridiculous.”

“God, you’re fucking amazing.” _I love you_. She tries - oh, does she try - but the words won’t leave her mouth. All that comes out is a sigh.

**[-_-_-_-]**

“Call me when you land, okay?”

“Don’t you dare cry, Bean, or I’ll cry, and I’m an ugly crier, and none of us wanna see that shit.” Monica’s eyes fill with tears despite her words, and she tugs Emilie in for a tight hug. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

“Hard same, good buddy.”

Emilie watches as one of the best friends she’s ever had disappears through security. She leans against the wall of windows, staring out at the aeroplanes on the tarmac, and waits. It’s been two days since they arrived in Los Angeles, and now, it is time for Monica to go back to the life she left on pause in Austin.

Her phone buzzes in her hand thirty minutes later, and she unlocks it to read Monica’s text that she’s seated and waiting for take-off. Emilie sends back a large amount of heart and crying emojis. Her throat tightens when the plane starts to move, taxiing down the strip. Then, between breaths, it’s gone, and it takes Emilie’s last physical connection to Austin with it.

Niall, thankfully, understands how close to breaking she is when she gets back to his - their - house. He distracts Ryder with a toy then opens his arms. She immediately falls into him, lets him soothe the twinging pain of having to say goodbye. Between his warm, strong hold and the sound of Ryder playing happily in the middle of the room, Emilie doesn’t feel quite like she’s at risk of drowning in the sadness.


	31. thirty-one.

The two weeks over the holidays could never have prepared Emilie for the reality of living with Niall. It isn’t nearly as easy or effortless as her week-long vacation in the summer, and she has to put forth a conscious effort to remind herself that this is new to both her and Niall. Of course there is going to be an uncomfortable acclimation period. Convincing herself is harder than it should be.

Most of the disciplining falls on her shoulders, and Emilie understands why. She really does. After all, she knows it isn’t the most comfortable feeling in the world to be a parental figure practically out of nowhere, so she doesn’t begrudge Niall for his hesitation or lack of stepping in, but it certainly doesn’t make her feel any better to be the “mean” one all the time.

A mantra has settled in the back of her mind, constantly making her wonder two things: If she truly is doing the best she can without being too strict, and if she can make this relationship work while raising a child that is biologically not hers - or his.

By the time she goes to bed on the first Friday after moving in, Emilie feels all sorts of upside-down. Ryder hadn’t wanted to go to bed - he’s been having troubles sleeping since Monica went back home, and too many times he’s woken up from bad dreams and refused to calm down unless he was in the same bed as Emilie and Niall. She knows this is only the after-effect of a massive change in his life. It’s still really hard to deal with.

The upside of the new living situation is she gets as many kisses and cuddles she can possibly ask for, whenever she wants them - in the evening, anyway. Niall has work to do and is often out of the house shortly after breakfast, but he’s been home before dinner. Emilie has enjoyed the little bit of routine they’ve been able to carve out over the last few days. She just wishes she had more time during the day with Niall instead of the last couple of hours at night.

Thankfully, it isn’t as awkward as she feared to be living with her boyfriend and his childhood friend. Mully is still just as easy to get along with whenever he’s home, and he doesn’t seem to have any issue whatsoever about a toddler roaming about the house. It’s pleasant, she’s found, to have another connection in her new home, even if their friendship only came because of the fact that she’s dating Niall. He does appear to go out of his way to reassure Emilie that she’s doing well as Ryder’s stand-in mother. She may not know why, but she’s appreciative of it nonetheless.

Niall leaves early Monday morning, promising to be back by the following night. The only consolation of it all is that he looks just as disappointed and reluctant to leave as Emilie is to have him leaving. But she knows his jobs are important to him, so she swallows back the pleas for him to stay, to ignore the world and his responsibilities and his passions. Selfishness has never been a good colour on her. Ryder has already grown accustomed to Niall being gone during the day, but Emilie is sure it’s bound to be an ugly bedtime tonight.

She’s just set his plate of apple wedges and a grilled cheese sandwich on the table when a knock sounds at the door. Brows furrowed, Emilie reaches the foyer right as it opens, Louis grins cheekily as he steps inside, Freddie toddling dutifully behind. Emilie rolls her eyes but leans down to scoop the child into her arms, hugs him tightly.

“Missed you, little guy. Mind if I give him a snack?” she asks Louis in an undertone, and he shrugs, ducking into the living room to set the diaper bag by the end of the couch.

Freddie chatters on about the stuffed animal in his hands, and she does her best to listen and respond. Unfortunately, her mind is still on the fact that she’ll be sleeping alone tonight - or rather, with a two-year-old who will fight against bedtime since Niall isn’t here - and the frustrations that she still struggles with.

“Talk to me, love.”

She jumps, startled at how near Louis’s voice is. “Hm? I’m fine.”

“Right. Is that why you’ve been stood there staring at the wall for the last couple of minutes? Because you’re ‘fine’?”

She blows out a breath and beckons him closer, explaining on a whisper that this is the first time that Niall hasn’t been here for bedtime since they moved in and she fears how Ryder will react when he realises it. After a hesitation that drags on slightly too long, she caves and confesses that she’s afraid that if something doesn’t change, she might actually grow to resent Niall.

“Resent him? Why?”

“Because…” She busies herself with washing the few dishes left in the sink from breakfast; it hurts too much to talk about, especially when he is staring at her with so much concern. “Because I’m tired of being the only one to dole out any sort of punishment. Like, if Ryder does something, who’s the one to scold or redirect him? Me. And, you know, I get it. I mean, it isn’t like Niall has ever had to actually parent a child before. He doesn’t want to overstep his bounds. But I’m just… I’m tired.”

“Have you talked to him?”

“And say what? There’s really nothing I can say that wouldn’t make him feel like I’m trying to guilt-trip him.”

Louis takes the plate from her hand, setting it back in the sink, and gently forces her to look at him. “Em, he won’t know anything is wrong unless you tell him.”

“Nothing’s _wrong_, really.”

“Except something _is_. No, don’t argue, okay? The only thing Niall wants is for you to be happy. You’re not happy right now. You need to talk to him.”

“It’s only been a week,” she protests, though she isn’t sure who she is trying to convince. “Things will get better if I give it time.”

“If you’re sure,” Louis murmurs, and Emilie can hear the doubt in his voice. “Just remember that he isn’t going to be upset if you talk to him about this.”

She shrugs and turns away from Louis’s searching gaze. Before she can say more, the children start fussing to get out of their seats, so Emilie distracts herself with wiping their faces and hands then setting them on the floor. Louis lets the subject drop, thankfully. Emilie adores him - it has been an utter pleasure getting to know him - but she can’t stand admitting that things aren’t as perfect as she’d hoped they would be. She moved too far from what she’s known for this to not be perfect.

She keeps one eye on the kids and Louis as she scrolls through job listings. He doesn’t try for more conversation with her, and Emilie is glad for that. Her thoughts continue to circle back to how overwhelmed she is lately; she would hate to unload everything on him any more than she already has. So she forces herself to focus on the site instead of her emotions. At least this is easier.

It isn’t a surprise that getting Ryder to bed that night is an exercise in futility. Even talking on the phone to her parents - and then Niall, when the toddler still refused to calm down - is no help. He just won’t stay in bed, and Emilie struggles to keep her temper in check. She’s just glad that the house is empty except for them. The last thing she wants right now is an audience to this show.

She gives up after three hours, too emotionally and physically drained to continue: She carries Ryder to the bed she shares with Niall, turns the television on, and searches through the channels until she finds one playing late-night cartoons. He sniffles as he curls into her side, and the newfound quiet is almost enough to drown at the twinges of regret that she’s caved. It is most likely going to set an awful precedent, but Emilie just can’t handle any more fighting. So she runs her fingers lightly through his hair and watches the cartoon with him, hoping with everything she is that she can get through this.


	32. thirty-two.

“I appreciate this so much, Mully,” Emilie whispers as she passes the sleeping toddler over, and the man grins brightly.

“Not a problem. Good luck with the interview.”

“Yeah, I’ll need it. Uh, he has a -”

“Cup of juice in the refrigerator, and he likes apples cut into wedges with a spoonful of peanut butter as a post-nap snack. I have your number in case of an emergency. Niall will be back in less than an hour, so there really isn’t need for you to worry.” Mully shoos her toward the door. “Good luck, have fun, I can handle this.”

Emilie hesitates on the step but capitulates when he does nothing more than shift his gaze pointedly from her to the Explorer that sits on the other side of the fence. With one last plea that he call her if anything arises, she hurries down the walk and through the gate.

She knows this interview is important - she can’t just not have a job, not now that she’s living with Niall and Mully - and the fact that she got a call back only two days after applying bolsters her confidence in whether she gets the job.

The building she parks in front of is squat and long, the walk lined with brightly-coloured flowers, and the large windows are decorated with stickers of smiling suns and animals. The grey brick would come across as neutral, even morose, if it wasn’t for it the enormous mural of safari animals and children dancing that’s painted on the front.

All in all, it makes for a cheerful welcome to Tiny Tots Nursery. Emilie sighs, stepping out of the car, and locks the doors behind her. The heat of the morning is heavy with impending rain, though the sky is clear blue overhead.

“Hi, welcome to Tiny Tots! Have you come to add your child to the registry?”

Emilie nearly takes a step back at how exuberantly she’s greeted, but she forces herself to approach the desk. “Hello. Uh, I’m Emilie Ellis, I have an interview with Desiree?”

“Oh! Of course. If you’ll just have a seat, she’ll be right out. Would you like anything to drink while you wait?”

“No, thanks.”

“Alrighty, holler if you change your mind.”

Emilie nods sharply then moves to sit on the bench against the wall. Her knee bounces as she stares around the small lobby; finger-paintings are tacked to the plaster, covering every available inch of the walls, and a banner hangs from the ceiling, printed with photos of what Emilie presumes is the staff. _At least they look friendly_, she thinks even while her stomach churns.

She hasn’t been to a job interview since before she started higher education. There hasn’t really been need to. Any employment she’s had in the last seven years have been at places she’s had a connection to - all she had to do was put in an application, and she was hired with no questions asked because of who she knew. The last three and a half years, though, have left an empty gap on her CV, one she hopes won’t be an issue.

Thankfully, she isn’t let to stew in her own doubts for too long. The receptionist tells her with a wide smile that she can go back to the office, and Emilie swipes her clammy palms against her slacks. She hitches her purse onto her shoulder and makes her way down the short corridor.

Desiree turns out to be bubbly but straightforward. She begins the interview with a bit of small talk, brows raising at Emilie’s accent. Emilie is surprised when the other woman says she grew up in Midlothian, only twelve miles from Emilie’s hometown of Waxahachie.

Desiree seems to accept Emilie’s explanation about the lack of employment easily enough. She does go quiet for a moment, pinning her with a scrutinising look, as she taps a pen against the dektop. Her lips quirk upwards, and she straightens in her seat.

“Okay, everything looks good. Sounds good, too. I’ve already started the background check, because I had hopes for you. Barring any unforeseen problems with your drug testing, welcome aboard. You’ll be in the infants-to-one room with Gloria, and don’t worry. Your son will fit right in.”

Emilie frowns, cocks her head to the side. “Uh, what?”

“We allow our employees with children to bring them to work with them at a discounted rate.” Desiree smiles slightly, takes a sip of water. “It saves on childcare costs for our employees. The only thing we ask is that you trust his room chaperones to handle anything that arises, instead of swooping in to rescue him. Your welcome packet will have all the appropriate paperwork to get him registered and the instructions for your drug test.”

Emilie thanks the woman shakily. This is far beyond what she expected when she walked in, and she can’t deny it is a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Having something to do that isn’t sitting around fuck-all while home alone is going to be amazing.

She leaves a few minutes later, folded tucked to her chest on her way back out to the car. Something smooths out inside of her, the subtlest sharp edge dulling to silk, and Emilie feels the fluttering of hope’s wings stretching, preparing to take flight and bring forth the future.

True to Mully’s word, Niall is home by the time Emilie steps in through the front door. Beyond him talking, though, it’s quiet - eerily so. She makes her way into the living room and stops abruptly. She stares between her boyfriend and the toddler who is sat in the corner of the couch, pouting as Niall and Mully pointedly ignore any sound Ryder makes. Niall catches her eye.

“Hey, love.” He seems to realise that she is utterly confused, smiling softly at her. “He refused to listen to multiple warnings, so he’s in time-out right now.”

Emilie can’t speak. She is absolutely stunned speechless. All the worries she’s harboured since she moved in have been confronted and eased, even if Niall doesn’t realise what he’s done. She swallows thickly, the lump in her throat remaining though she tries, and hurries to put her bag and shoes away.

Ryder raises his arms to her when she passes by, but exchanging a look with Niall tells her that the child’s punishment isn’t over yet. So as much as it hurts, she moves to sit on the sofa without giving in.

“Okay, bud, wanna talk now?”

“Talk good.”

“Yeah, talking is good. Come on over.”

Emilie closes her eyes against tears as Ryder obediently crawls across the couch to clamber onto Niall’s lap. Niall doesn’t raise his voice, keeps his tone even and firm, and she wants nothing more than to steal him away from the world for a while.

**[-_-_-_-]**

“You ready for your first day, sweetie?”

Ryder shakes his head and moves closer to Emilie’s leg. She runs her fingers lightly over his hair, turning her gaze back to the entrance to Tiny Tots. Parents drop off their kids at the front of the building, voices overlapping each other in the morning air. Emilie waves at Gloria then crouches down to Ryder’s level.

“Lemme guess. You’re kinda nervous? Scared because this is new?”

“I no go.”

“Sorry, baby, but you have to. Remember Miss Annie and Mister Josh? They’ll take good care of you, and I will be there to get you as soon as I can, okay?”

“No go.”

“Yes go.” She sighs when his face screws up; his . “Okay, how about this. Will you please try? Just spend a few minutes in the room with the other kids and all the fun toys and books. If you don’t like it, then I can take you back home. I promise.”

“Trust.”

“Absolutely, darling boy. Trust, trust, trust,” she whispers, punctuating each word with a smacking kiss to his cheek.

Ryder slips his hand into hers and follows her down the pavement. He presses against her as they walk, but Emilie counts it as a victory. Josh joins them on the walk to the room, trying - and failing - to engage Ryder in any sort of conversation.

“Sorry, he’s…”

“Don’t be sorry. It’s okay. We don’t force kiddos to talk if they’re not ready. But, Ryder? I really hope you’re ready to talk to us soon.”

It takes a few minutes, but Ryder finally goes into the classroom, albeit reluctantly. He looks back at her a couple of times. Then his attention is stolen by a little girl with a bucket of building blocks. Emilie watches him for a minute, heart clenching when he doesn’t pay her any more mind.

Josh catches her eye, nods, and Emilie inhales unsteadily before making her way to the infants-to-one room. Gloria hasn’t arrived with the kids yet, so Emilie sets about straightening up the tables and chairs, the toy bins.

“It’s hard, isn’t it?”

She squeaks at the sudden voice, whirling around to see a man in the doorway. “What?”

“Leaving your kid for hours at a time. It’s hard.”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. First time I’ve ever been away from him for this long. Willingly, anyway.”

“It doesn’t get easier,” he laughs as he steps into the room.

“Right. Um, is there anything I can help you with, sir?”

“No, no. Just dropped my daughter off in the fours and was passing by when I saw you in the twos.”

_So you followed me down the building?_ She swallows thickly, clenching her shaking hands into fists behind her back. The man doesn’t say anything more, just stares at her with an unreadable expression on his face. Emilie tries her best to act nonchalant as she moves away from the corner she’s pinned in.

Thankfully, Gloria arrives not a moment later. The man leaves without another word, and Emilie lets out a slow breath. Her heart thumps painfully beneath her ribs, but she does her best to hide it. She pushes the fear and anxiety down, deeper than the light can touch, and focuses on listening as Gloria tells her about the routines for the day.


	33. thirty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest - i woke up thinking today was wednesday and got super-excited about updating today. then while i was making pancakes, i realised... it's only tuesday. but i'm not gonna let that stop me. so y'all get double-updates this week because i have a feeling you'll want to hate me within the next few chapters... just please remember that i love you. 🖤🖤

Emilie and Ryder slip onto a new routine, an easily-established rhythm: She turns off her alarm, goes downstairs to make coffee, then jumps in the shower. By the time she’s dressed with minimal makeup on, the machine has finished its brew cycle, and Ryder is eating breakfast in his high-chair, placed there by either Mully or Niall, depending on which man woke up first. Then she gets the toddler changed into a fresh diaper and an outfit, and they’re out the door by seven with a kiss from Niall - if he’s home - or a hug from Mully.

The domesticity of it all is overwhelmingly simple. It makes Emilie wonder if this is how her parents felt during their marriages, whether they were so content and at ease with the stability that comes with love. She calls her mom on the way to work on Friday, but she finds herself unable to put into words everything she’s feeling. Thankfully, Rose understands.

Two weeks after Emilie started working at Tiny Tots, Gloria breezes into the room, announcing that a parent wants to speak to Emilie. Emilie frowns. She rarely has anything to do with the moms and dads, opting to let her co-worker handle the interactions.

She finishes changing Malachi’s diaper then carries him to the play pen. He immediately reaches for a cloth block, stuffing the corner into his mouth, and she shakes her head but lets him. Poor kid is teething again.

“Hi.”

Her mouth runs dry, and a shiver runs down her spine. Resisting the urge to run back into the relative safety of the room, she forces a smile at the man, but she keeps her hand on the handle of the door.

“Hi. Can I help you?”

“Yeah, I... I was running late this morning, so I just dropped Lily off to her class. And I was wondering if you’d go to dinner with me sometime.”

Emilie’s mind stutters to a standstill. All thoughts flee like water through her fingers. She stares, slack-jawed, at the man who’s staring at her as if he hadn’t just asked something so -

“Inappropriate,” she manages to squeak out. She coughs quietly. “That is completely inappropriate. This is neither the time nor place for you to ask that.”

“You’re right. Normally, I wouldn’t be so... bold, but I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. So I figured I would take a chance.”

“Yes, well, that doesn’t change the fact that we don’t know each other, and this is an unacceptable venue for you to proposition me.”

“That’s what a date is for, to get to know each other.”

The man steps closer, the smile on his face meant to be benign but throwing klaxons in her brain into a screaming red-alert. Her fingers tighten around the handle until her bones ache. Breathing is difficult, she can’t get enough air.

“Sorry, I’m not interested.”

“But you said it yourself, we don’t know each other. Who knows. I could be your Mister Right.”

“I said no. Have a good day, sir.”

Emilie bolts back into the room and practically slams the door into its frame. Gloria cocks her head, gaze flicking between Emilie and the door. Hands trembling, Emilie swallows thickly, forces the panic to the back of her mind. She makes a note to explain things to Gloria later, if only so she’s aware in case Emilie goes missing.

_You’re overreacting_, the logical part of her mind claims, though the rest of her says that this is absolutely an appropriate reaction. The man may come across as harmless, but there is something about him that she just doesn’t trust. Today’s events only further validate those misgivings, born of a handful of run-ins that are entirely too often to be coincidental.

“San Francisco Bakery and Cafe, this is Monica.”

“Hey, Mon...”

“Bean! Hi! Wait, why are you calling the shop?”

“Because I know your schedule.” Emilie sighs and checks that Ryder is preoccupied in the backseat. “Is it busy?”

“Not really, no. Want me to call you on my cell?”

“Please? I, I really need someone to talk to.”

“Okay, babe. Give me five minutes.”

Emilie ends the call without another word, blowing out a shaky breath. She still can’t shake the fear that buzzes under her skin, even though she intentionally stayed in the room until Gloria told her the coast was clear. Josh had walked with Emilie and Ryder to the car, waiting until she’d pulled out of the car park to go to his own vehicle.

None of her co-workers are pleased with the man’s actions; Josh and Annie had pushed for Emilie to bring it up with Desiree while Gloria promised to never let the man near Emilie again. Logan, one of the chaperons for the 3-year-olds’ room, told Emilie to point out the guy the next time he was in, and Logan would take care of it.

She’s jerked from her thoughts by her phone ringing, _Guy Love_ from Scrubs coming through the speakers. She accepts the call, and Derek speaks before she can say anything.

“Okay, Mon and I are here. What’s up?”

Emilie tells them as much as she can while being vague - Ry is in the stage of repeating everything he hears, and the last thing she wants is for Niall to find out what she’s going through from a two-year-old. Her friends stay quiet long after she’s finished, and Emilie risks glancing at the display to make sure the call is still connected.

“Guys?”

“Sorry, Bean, just trying to calculate the odds of Emmett letting Derek give me his vacation days so I can come back to LA and kick that man’s ass.”

“Monie kick ass!”

Emilie snorts before clapping a hand over her mouth. Her giggles go unheard under Monica and Derek’s laughter. She waits until she’s stopped in the rush-hour traffic before looking back at Ryder. He grins brightly, proudly at receiving such a reaction from the adults.

“Seriously, Em,” Derek wheezes after a moment, “you should talk to your boss. Let her know what’s going on.”

“I know. I will tomorrow. I just... what if I’m making this into more than what it is?”

“No, sweetie, don’t think like that. Okay? That guy made you uncomfortable and didn’t take your no as answer enough. That’s completely not okay. So talk to your boss before it gets worse.”

Derek is right, Emilie knows it, but she can’t help feeling like she is in the wrong. There’s nothing she can do about it now, so she thanks her friends for their advice and asks how their lives have been going. Unfortunately, the tinkling of a bell comes down the line, and Derek lets out a sigh.

“Gotta go?” Emilie asks, though she knows the answer before either of them can respond.

“Yeah, sorry. Virtual Wine and Whine tonight?”

“Sounds good. Love y’all.”

“Love you, too, Beanie Baby!”

Derek laughs quietly. “Love you, Emma. Please talk to your boss. And Niall. He should know, too.”

Emilie promises to do both, and Derek hangs up. She exhales sharply, resolving to get herself collected before she gets home. Her entire body is heavy, weighted down with nervous energy and now homesickness. It isn’t so much Austin that she misses, but the ones she’s left behind.

Ryder launches himself into Niall’s arms the instant Emilie opens the front door to the house. She smiles, sets her bag aside, and helps her boyfriend remove the child’s shoes. A gentle kiss from Niall, then she turns to take off her flats.

“Monie kick ass!”

Emilie abruptly freezes at Ryder’s exuberant announcement. Niall’s gaze moves from the toddler to Emilie, brow rising in question - and amusement. She gives an awkward shrug but can’t hide this from him. He would never let her.

She takes Ryder from Niall, pressing her lips to his chubby cheek. “Hey, baby, why don’t you go play in the living room, yeah? You have those awesome new dinos that Mister Sean got for you, and I think they look super cool and ready to play with.”

Once he’s on his feet, he hurries to the other room, leaving behind an uncomfortable silence. Niall reaches for her, pulls her close, and everything melts away. His heart beats steadily beneath her ear, so calming and rhythmic that she relaxes further against him. Pulling away only far enough to kiss him, the last vestiges of her stress disappears with the contact.

“So whose arse is Monica kicking and why?”

“Not yours, don’t worry.”

“I should hope not. I’ve not done anything wrong.” Niall’s chuckles fade far too quickly. “Petal, what happened?”

“There’s this guy - a dad of one of the kids - and he just... he makes me so uncomfortable. I see him all the time, even though his daughter isn’t in our age group, and I’m starting to think it isn’t coincidence. And today...”

“What’d he do?”

“Babe, my ribs don’t need realigned. I quite like them where they are.”

“Hm?”

“You’re squeezing a bit too tight.”

Niall loosens his grip with a sheepish grin, and Emilie lets him lead her to the kitchen. He releases her then pulls a chair out; after he’s comfortably sat, he pats his thighs. She shakes her head but straddles his lap. One of his hands comes up to rest against her spine, the other playing with the ends of her hair. Emilie buries her face into the curve of his neck.

“He asked me out.”

“Oh? When’s the date?”

“That’s really not funny.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He runs his fingers lightly along her back, but she can feel the way they shake against her vertebrae. “Does anyone else know?”

“Yeah, I told my co-workers. Gonna tell Desiree tomorrow morning. This way, if I go missing, y’all know where to look first.”

“And you say I’m not funny,” he grumbles, and Emilie giggles shortly.

“It’ll be okay. I think. But yeah, it’s not been a pleasant day. I’ve been so terrified that he’d stick around or follow me home or something.”

“You’re safe now, darling. If-if he comes by tomorrow or makes you uncomfortable at any point again, I want you to come straight home. Okay? Don’t worry about your job, don’t worry about anything other than keeping you and Ry safe.”

“I will.”

“Good. Now, why don’t you go upstairs, take a long bath, and relax while Ryder and I get dinner ready?”

“Because I like where I’m at right now.”

“Go on, silly girl. I promise we’ll still be here when you’re done.”

It’s only because he promises a glass of wine for her to take with her into the bath that Emilie finally pushes herself to her feet. She ducks down to kiss him, taking and giving and tasting, relishing the dazed look on his face when she pulls back. She cards her fingers through his hair, lips forming a smile of their own accord as she stares at him.

The words are so easy to think. Just three words, eight letters. So easy to run through her mind, fill her from the core, but so impossible to say aloud.

_I love you._


	34. thirty-four.

Desiree’s face turns an interesting shade of puce as she listens to Emilie the next morning. Her fingers rap a staccato beat on the desk-top, her eyes growing harder the more Emilie tells her. She waves a hand in the air, and Emilie closes her mouth with a clack of her teeth.

“How often have you seen this man around?”

“Every day.”

“Okay. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. You’re right. It’s absolutely un-fucking-acceptable that he’s doing this. I know it isn’t ideal, but can you please let one of the men walk you to and from your car every day? Just until I can handle this, and I _will_ handle this.”

“Yeah, I can do that. Thanks.”

“I’m so sorry for you having to go through this, Emilie. If you want, you can totally take a few days off.”

Emilie declines the offer; the thought of not working just because someone made her uncomfortable isn’t one she wishes to entertain. Desiree brings the impromptu meeting to a close with another apology, and Emilie leaves feeling less like she’s in this alone.

She promised, so Emilie follows through with sticking close to Logan and Josh as they make their way to her car after work that evening. She buckles Ryder into his seat then takes a second to text Niall saying she’s on her way home. Josh holds the door open once she’s slid into the driver’s seat.

“I know this may be stupid, but humour me, please. Let Logan or me drive you to work.”

“I’m way out of your guys’ way.”

“So drive to my house, then we’ll ride in together in my car. If the creep sees your car here, he’s going to search for you inside.”

“I’ll think about it.”

He nods succinctly, pushes the door shut, and steps back. Emilie reverses out of the parking space, waving as she drives away. Josh’s words replay in her mind, and she finds herself giving the offer serious consideration.

He made a very valid point. She can’t deny that it would be a worry lifted from her shoulders if she can ease any risk of seeing Him. The part that angers her most about this entire situation is that she doesn’t even know his name. He encroached on her privacy, her right to exist without him cluttering up her bubble with his presence, and never even had the decency to introduce himself first.

“Ry?”

“An’ Em?”

“Please don’t grow up to be a creepy weirdo, ‘kay?”

“No weirdo,” he parrots cheerily from the backseat.

Emilie laughs, shakes her head at how easily he repeats things without knowledge of the gravity of the words. “No weirdo.”

****

**[-_-_-_-]**

Emilie glances up as footsteps near the bedroom; no sounds come from across the hall, so she assumes that Niall has managed to get Ryder to fall asleep in his own bed. Her brows draw together when her boyfriend appears in the door, practically vibrating out of his skin with - irritation? Anger? Frustration? She isn’t quite sure, but it is blatantly obvious that something is wrong.

He disappears into the en suite, and the door shuts behind him rather forcefully. Emilie stares at the door for a moment then finishes writing before locking her journal in the nightstand drawer. Settling against the pillows, she reaches for her phone to play a level or two of _Toon Blast_ while waiting for Niall to come out again.

He emerges from the bathroom five minutes later. Emilie is never going to not be in awe whenever she sees him like this - just a pair of shorts, no shirt to cover up with. Hers. He collapses onto the edge of the bed, rubs at his eyes with one hand. She reaches out for him tentatively, and a spike of pain shoots through her chest when he pulls away.

“Babe? What’s wrong?”

“Just tired,” he mutters in response as he turns off his bedside lamp.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’s all, so cut the bullshit, yeah?”

His blue eyes narrow, lips tugging down into a frown, but she doesn’t shrink back from his glare. She only stares impassively at him, and eventually, he blows out a breath. Emilie takes it as admission that something is making him unhappy.

She turns to face him more fully. The silence between them stretches, but she stays quiet. She’s learnt that he has trouble with words sometimes, especially if he isn’t writing a song. The last thing she wants to do is force him to talk. So she waits.

“I…” Niall sighs and cards his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to complain.”

“Complain away, honey. It’s only fair for me to listen.”

His lips twitch, just a bit, but he lets her hold his hand tightly in hers. “I, well, I love having you and Ryder here, you know that. Right? I do. But it’s harder than I expected to learn how to handle having two other people living here.”

“Okay. I’m with you so far.”

“It stresses me out to come home and see Ry’s toys everywhere on the floor.”

The words are rushed, forced out in a surprisingly small number of syllables. Emilie blinks a few times then reaches for her phone again. Niall scoffs, abruptly shoving off the bed; his motions are jerky as he yanks back the duvet and slides between the sheets. When he looks at her again, his eyes are aflame with anger, and the scowl on his face is severe.

“Really? You’re going to check your messages. Right now. While we’re trying to talk.”

Emilie doesn’t reply, just continues to search for the app. She presses the button and sets the device between them on the mattress. His eyes follow the movement.

“Actually, I’m recording this conversation. Because I want us to be able to communicate. I know this is important to you, to your happiness, so it’s important to me, too. I don’t want to get anything wrong or be unsure about something.”

“Em…” Niall’s face falls from anger, twisting into remorse, and Emilie shakes her head.

“It’s okay. Niall, I just want you to be happy with us here, and if something is bothering you, I want you to be able to talk to me, because I need to know. I need to have the chance to fix it. So please, give me that chance?”

He exhales sharply through his nose then nods succinctly; Emilie hates that he doesn’t seem to be able to meet her eye. He runs his fingertip over the smooth curve of her nails, the ridge of her knuckles, but he doesn’t once look at her face.

“I get frustrated when toys and books are on the floor in the living room. I know you have a lot to do around here, between taking care of Ryder and Freddie, trying to catch up on your classes, work…”

“But I could still do better at making sure at least the communal rooms are picked up. Got it. I mean, I can’t promise that Ryder’s room will always be spotless, but the rest, I can do.”

“I’m not attacking you, by the way.”

She shifts her hand until she’s holding his, presses a kiss to his knuckles before smiling at him. “I’m not upset. You’re right. I’ve been slacking when it comes down to it. I’m just… I’m used to being able to get by with letting his stuff lie around for a while until I feel like cleaning it up. Or until I feel like arguing with him to clean it up. Either way, it’s not an excuse, and I promise to not let it become a problem again.”

“Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

Evidently, admitting that one issue opens the door to others; Emilie listens carefully as he explains the things that stress him out, making mental notes of what seems to occur more often and vowing to change that. When he finally runs out of steam, he lets out a heavy sigh and leans against the headboard.

Emilie waits another few seconds before stopping the recording, saves it as _Important important important!!!!_, then sets her phone on the nightstand. Niall doesn’t hesitate to open his arms to her and let her curl into his side. She rests her hand on his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath her palm, and tilts her head back.

“Thank you for telling me all this. I didn’t realise it was so hard on you, and I’m sorry for that.”

“I could have told you at any point over the last month and a half, so…”

“Just let me be apologetic, ‘kay?”

He laughs softly, ducking down to press his lips to hers. Her fingers automatically curl into the skin and hair beneath them as she deepens the kiss. It’s not much, but her heart begins pounding against her ribs regardless. She shifts until she straddles his waist, and his hands instantly come up to grip her hips, thumb pressing against bone. No words need to be spoken for them both to be on the same page, and Emilie tries to say the words she can’t speak aloud with the way she loves him.


	35. thirty-five.

Niall watches his girlfriend as she dances through the living room, singing loudly and off-key to make the toddler in her arms giggle. Ryder stares up at Emilie as if she’s the only one in the world. Niall doesn’t blame the child - he has often found himself enraptured by everything about her over the last two months. 

A twinge of worry flickers beneath his breastbone when the smile on her face slips, but then she’s steadying herself. She does drop down onto the couch next to Niall, though. He assumes she has made herself dizzy with the dancing, so he doesn’t question it, just tugs her into his side.

Ryder cuddles between them, fingers coming up to play with the ends of his aunt’s hair. “An’ Em done?”

“Yeah, baby, Auntie Emilie is done dancing.”

Niall takes a closer look at her face. Despite the flush to her cheeks, her skin is pale, sweat beading along her hairline. She must feel his scrutiny; she glances at him, brows drawing together. He shakes his head, unable to voice a concern he can’t put into words. She nods slowly then settles further into the cushions. The music and bright colours of the cartoon capture Ryder’s attention, and he snuggles closer to the adults as he focuses on the television.

“Lemme get him to bed,” Niall murmurs when Emilie checks the time on her phone.

“You sure? You’ve been doing it every night since we moved in.”

“I’m not sure what your point is, but if it’s that you feel like I’m doing it against my wishes, you and I will be having a very serious discussion once he’s asleep.”

It’s meant as a joke, but the contrition on her face tells Niall he’s hit the mark. He suppresses a sigh - it isn’t her fault that she worries about that. He just wishes she could trust that Niall would never do something he absolutely did not want to do. He presses a kiss to her temple, frowning at the warmth of her skin.

“Petal? You feeling okay?”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine. Tired, I guess.”

Niall wants to push the conversation, wants her to tell him everything, but he doesn’t. The trust has to go both ways, he knows, so he shoves the words back down and rises to his feet. Ryder whines when he’s lifted off his aunt’s lap, though he lets his head fall to Niall’s shoulder without protest.

Emilie is already asleep in bed by the time Niall is finally able to leave the child’s room. Ryder had wanted story after story, lullaby after lullaby. It wasn’t until Niall got halfway through So Long for the second time that Ryder’s eyes closed and stayed that way.

Niall hurries through his nighttime routine, wanting nothing more than to crawl into bed next to Emilie and fall asleep with her breathing steady music in his ears. She doesn’t stir even as he slides in between the sheets, and Niall’s concern ramps in intensity when he throws an arm over her waist. She’s even more warm now than she was half an hour ago.

Pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, he settles in behind her and hopes that this is all just his mind playing tricks on him.

“An’ Em? An’ Em! An’ Em ‘kay?”

Niall jerks to consciousness at the frantic voice, and he scrambles out of bed. Heart racing painfully beneath his sternum, he blinks rapidly in the face of unexpected light, searches for where the voice is coming from.

“Ryder? What are you -”

He doesn’t need to say more. He scurries to the doorway of the bathroom, pulling the toddler away from where Emilie is curled up on the floor next to the toilet. Her cheeks are splotched a brilliant ruby, and she shivers as she sleeps. Scooping Ryder up into his arms, Niall stares down at his girlfriend for a moment then turns, hitting the light switch on his way out of the room.

“An’ Em!” Ryder whines, struggles against Niall’s hold.

“I know, bud, but Auntie Emilie isn’t feeling well right now, so we’re gonna leave her alone for a bit, okay?”

“No ‘kay. I want An’ Em.”

Niall presses a kiss to the child’s soft curls before setting him in his high-chair. Ryder pouts even after Niall sets a bowl of his dinosaur-egg oatmeal in front of him. It takes all of Niall’s willpower to not just go back upstairs to care for Emilie; she will be okay for a few more minutes. Blowing out a breath, Niall drops into the chair next to Ryder.

“I know that you’re not happy right now, but we want Auntie Emilie to get better real fast, right? That means you have to be a big boy and eat your breakfast while I go help her. I promise she will give you the biggest cuddles as soon as she’s no longer ill.”

“Em’s not feeling well?”

Niall shakes his head, handing Ryder his spoon. “Nah. I woke up to Ry panicking because she’s fast asleep by the toilet.”

“I can watch the tot if you need to go take care of her,” Mully offers, and Niall blows out a breath.

“Thanks, that’d be great.” Catching Ryder’s eye again, Niall forces a smile. “Please eat, sweet boy. I’ll be right back.”

“An’ Em kiss!”

Niall promises to give Emilie a kiss for the child then hurries back upstairs. She hasn’t moved at all by the time he turns the light on, and his heart finally stops pounding so hard only to stutter at the pained groan that comes from her. He drops to his knees at her side, presses his hand to her flushed cheek.

“Fuck, darling, you’re burning up.”

“Go away,” Emilie moans even as she pushes her face further into the cradle of his palm.

“Not gonna happen. Think you can move?”

She doesn’t reply, but he didn’t really expect her to. Niall gingerly tucks one hand under her, looping his other arm around her, and pulls her to sit up as slowly as he possibly can. She whines low on her throat, and Niall apologises more times than he can count while helping her to her feet.

Emilie sways unsteadily as he walks with her to the bed, coming dangerously close to crumbling to the floor. He tightens his hold on her before easing her onto the mattress. Her body starts shaking harder, and Niall tucks the blankets in tightly around her. He promises to be right back then reaches for her phone.

“Tiny Tots Nursery, this is Elaine.”

Niall startles at the chirpy voice abruptly in his ear, cursing when hot water splashes over his hand. “Don’t repeat that,” he says over his shoulder to Ryder, who giggles and shoves a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth. “Hi, uh, I’m calling for Emilie, she works there.”

“Oh! You must be Niall, then. What can I do for ya?”

“Yeah, I’m calling because Em isn’t going to be able to come in today. She woke up sometime in the night feeling poorly, and she’s currently running a high fever.”

“Oh, no! Well, I’ll let Desiree and Gloria know. Please tell her we all wish for a speedy recovery.”

“I will. Thanks.”

“What are your plans for today?” Mully calls from the living room, and Niall sighs, hangs up before dropping Emilie’s phone onto the counter.

“I… didn’t think about it, really. I mean, as I said, I woke up to my two-year-old screeching and then _I_ panicked because I found my girlfriend asleep on the floor.”

“Why don’t you take Ryder over to Louis’s today? I don’t really have anything to do, so I can stay here in case Emilie needs anything.”

“I-”

“Don’t argue, mate. I’ll win.”

Niall doesn’t argue.

He finishes the tea and grabs the bottle of ibuprofen before kissing Ryder’s forehead. Ryder holds out his spoon, and Niall doesn’t think twice about taking the offered bite. He reminds the toddler to finish his breakfast then heads back up the stairs. It’s a struggle, but he manages to make it to the bedroom without spilling the tea much.

Emilie has burrowed herself into the blankets, the fabric quivering where she lies. He sets the cup on the nightstand, sits on the edge of the mattress. She grumbles and groans, and it takes a few minutes, but Niall finally wakes her enough that she can sip at the tea and swallow the medicine. He pushes sweat-soaked hair from her face.

“Love, I am so sorry that it took me so long to take care of you,” he says softly.

“Shuddup, it’s ‘kay. I feel like shit,” she grumbles and flops to side, closing her eyes.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I’d make you feel better if I could. But I’m going to take Ryder to Lou’s for a bit, keep him out of your hair so you can rest. Stay in bed, sleep as much as you need to. Mully will be here, so please text him if you need anything, okay? If you need me to come home, let me know.”

She mumbles unintelligibly, already back to sleep, and Niall huffs a laugh. Making sure she’s comfortable and her drink is within reach, he tiptoes from the room, closes the door as silently as he can.


	36. thirty-six.

Emilie shuffles down the hallway, scrubbing at her eyes as she follows the smell of coffee. She woke up ten minutes ago feeling much less like someone had put her head in a blender, her stomach finally beginning to settle. She’d spent most of that time scrubbing her teeth until her mouth no longer tasted as if something died in there. She is still so tired, could honestly sleep for much longer than she already has, but guilt kept her from dozing off again.

Time means nothing right now - she doesn’t know how long she’s been recovering from whatever illness she contracted. All she knows is that Niall and Mully have had to rearrange their schedules to care for Ryder while she was down. She appreciates it, sure, since they probably had a lot of important things to do but were forced to cancel because she was sick. But she hates that they had to.

When the illness had first come on, she’d had a moment of panic. Did her birth control fail? What the Hell was she going to do if she was pregnant? She never really thought about having kids, and the desire to do so faded into nonexistence after Ryder was born. She doesn’t even know if Niall wants kids. But then the nausea had been accompanied by mind-melting fever and chills, and the worries of pregnancy blipped to dust in the back of her mind.

“I see you’re feeling better.”

Emilie finishes pouring a cup of coffee and turns to face Mully. He grins from where he’s sat at the table, pulling out the chair beside him. She smiles thankfully, drops into the seat.

“Much better,” she says before swallowing a mouthful of her drink. “How long was I out of it?”

“Not too long, a couple of days. You really don’t like taking medicine, by the way.”

Emilie runs her finger along the rim of her mug, grimacing at the thought, and huffs out a laugh. “Nope. Never have. How awful was I?”

“You weren’t awful. Promise. Just… very clingy.”

The memory is hazy, almost bearing the quality of a fever-dream, but it comes anyway: A cool hand against her forehead, gently easing her into sitting up, bitterness of medication as she swallows. The way her hands clung tightly to an arm as the person tried moving away to let her rest. Falling back asleep with fabric clenched in her fingers. She takes another drink to hide her mortification.

Mully chuckles, not unkindly, and nudges her with his shoulder. “Don’t worry. I found it to be adorable.”

Her lips quirk upward into an awkward smile, and Emilie coughs quietly before changing the subject; Mully seems to understand her discomfort, doesn’t comment further, but tells her that Niall took Ryder to daycare.

“He had something he couldn’t get out of, and he figured social interaction with kids his age would be good for Ryder.”

“He’s figured right.” Emilie sighs. “I’m sorry you guys had to deal with all this.”

“Don’t be, Em. We wouldn’t have done it if we minded. You and Ryder are family now, and we take care of our family.”

“Mafia-style?”

“Something like that,” laughs Mully as he climbs to his feet. “Well, hate to leave you alone when you’ve just come back from the dead, but I have a girlfriend to visit before she thinks I’ve forgotten about her.”

“Have fun.”

“Trust me, I will.”

“Oh, that’s crass. Go away. I didn’t sign up for this grossness.”

Mully’s laughter echoes as he bounds up the stairs, and Emilie shakes her head, smiling despite herself. Warmth diffuses throughout her chest when his words reply in her mind. _Family_. He called them family. Even after nine months of her dating Niall, three months of living here, it still takes her by surprise that Mully cares for her and Ryder like this.

He calls out a goodbye over his shoulder, doesn’t wait for a response before he closes the door behind him. Emilie stares around the kitchen, alone for the first time in a while. She has no idea of what to do with herself. She could pick Ryder up from Tiny Tots, but she scratches that option off the list. He deserves to have the chance to play with the friends he’s made.

Finishing her coffee, she rises and crosses the room to rinse her mug. The sky outside the window is clear, deep blue and promising no rain. Emilie goes to shower and change out of her pyjamas. This may prove to be a terrible idea, but the thought of going for a walk won’t leave her mind now that it’s there.

“An’ Em!”

Emilie crouches down to catch the toddler barrelling toward her. She holds him as tightly as he’ll allow, peppers his cheeks with kisses, and Ryder giggles wildly. Unfortunately, she hasn’t fully recovered from being sick, and she ends up having to set him down on the floor as her head swims. He doesn’t seem to notice, thankfully, just grins up at her.

“Hey, baby, did you have fun today? Were you good?”

“I paint!”

“I… can see that,” she murmurs as she rubs at the dot of pink paint by his nose. “Okay, why don’t you go on and play so I can say hi to Ni-Ni, yeah?”

“Love you rainbow.”

“And _I_ love _you_ more than the rainbow.”

Emilie stands upright, reaching for Niall’s arm to steady herself when the spinning grows worse, and shakes her head to clear the blurriness from her vision. Niall frowns and presses the back of his hand to her forehead.

“I’m fine, babe, I promise. Just leftovers of whatever bug I had.”

“You’d tell me if it was something else?”

“Yes. Now come here, I haven’t seen you all day.”

He chuckles quietly, tugs her closer, and she rests her forehead against his chest as he wraps his arms around her. It feels right to be held like this, especially after the last few days of isolation. After a moment, he pulls away and smiles down at her. She laces their fingers together and leads him to the living room, immediately curling into his side once they’ve sat down.

“Tell me about your day,” she murmurs, watching Ryder build a tower with his wooden blocks, and Niall kisses her forehead and does.

****

[-_-_-_-]

Emilie adjusts the neckline of her cream-coloured dress, smoothing out the lacy edges, then reaches for her denim jacket. The forecast calls for sunshine until evening, but considering it’s the middle of March, the weather has a chance of turning chilly. After a quick check in the mirror to make sure her makeup is flawless, she turns off the light and heads to the closet to pull on a pair of sandals.

She has just reached the foyer when the doorbell rings. Rolling her eyes, Emilie heads to pull the door open, her laugh fading when she sees Niall on the other side. He’s dressed casually like she is, but he makes casual look... perfect, really. Her mouth goes dry as she gives him a once-over.

“Hi, I’m here to pick up Emilie.”

She shakes her head and bites her lower lip. “One second.”

He waits while she tucks her phone into her purse, looping the strap over her shoulder, and locks up the house behind them. She laces their fingers together, tugs him to a stop. His confusion melts when she stretches up to kiss him gently. His chuckles ghosts across her face, and she slowly opens her eyes.

“That’s supposed to happen at the end of the night,” he whispers, though he certainly doesn’t seem to be bothered.

“Well, don’t be so gorgeous, and I won’t wanna kiss you every second of every day.”

Gentleman that he is, Niall holds the car door open for her, waits for her to get settled into the seat before closing it gently, and Emilie watches as he rounds the car. He buckles his seatbelt and puts the car in drive, reaching for her hand once he’s pulled out into the street.

“Ry settle in at Louis’s okay?”

“Yeah. He was a little upset that he couldn’t come with us, but Lou showed him Freddie’s toys and that was it. Barely got a hug from the little guy before he was off.”

“I’m glad. You _did_ tell Louis thank you for this, right?”

“Of course I did.” Niall turns his head to meet her gaze for a quick second then focuses on the road again. “Emilie, I... understand that you’re nervous about leaving him with Louis while we go on a date, but please try to relax. Ryder loves Louis and Freddie, and Lou will call if there are any problems. So, deep breath, yeah?”

“Deep breath. Right.” Exhaling sharply, Emilie squeezes his fingers in hers, smiling at him. “You’re right. Sorry, this is just the first time I’ve ever let someone else besides Derek or Monie watch him, and that was only ever so I could go to class.”

He lifts their hands, presses a kiss to her knuckles. “I understand. But tonight is about us.”

Somehow, Emilie isn’t surprised when Niall parks in front of 40 Love, but she doesn’t mind. She has been wanting to come here since she heard about it but never really had the opportunity. Too many responsibilities with work, classes, and raising Ryder.

Niall seems to know what she’s thinking; he grins brightly and hurries to open her door. She _is_ surprised by the fact that people leave them alone as they eat, especially when it seems like everywhere she looks, there is someone watching the two of them. Someone even takes a photo, but she ignores it.

The city sprawls out in the distance, and Emilie lets Niall help her to sit on the blanket. He drops down beside her; she leans against him, rests her head on his shoulder. Orange-pink leeches across the sky, and she shivers slightly in the breeze that picks up. This is already better than she anticipated a first date could be.

“Fucking Hell, this is our first date.”

Niall freezes next to her then laughs incredulously. “It is, isn’t it.”

“Almost an entire year, and we’re just now getting to the whole ‘date’ thing.”

“In our defence, we were sleeping together before we made us a thing.” He lets out a slow breath, catching her chin with his fingers. The kiss he presses to her lips is sweet and achingly tender. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

His voice falls away when someone clears their throat a couple of feet away. Emilie pulls away and stifles a sigh. Thankfully, Niall looks just as frustrated as she feels to have their date interrupted. His expression smooths out as the cluster of teens approach, and he plasters on a smile that comes across as genuine.

“So what were you like in school?” he asks as soon as autographs have been given and the teenagers have dispersed.

Emilie huffs out a laugh, settles back into his side, though her gaze stays on the skyline that’s darkening against the brilliant sunset. “I was quiet, really, kept mostly to myself. Founded an art club for my high school, and was on student council. Kinda nerdy, to be honest. I hardly studied, and I still managed to set the curve for my history and English exams. And if you can believe it, I was a cheerleader.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yep! There wasn’t a gymnastics team, and the marching band sucked. So I went out for cheer.”

“That’s - actually, I can kind of see it,” he says after a short pause. “You’ve kept in pretty good shape since then.”

She leans back so she can catch his eye. “Are you saying you like my body?”

“Amongst other things about you, yes. I do. Know any cheers?”

“Hell no. I forgot them all the second I graduated.”

Giggling, Emilie adjusts the skirt of her dress and curls onto her side facing him. He follows suit, fingers fidgeting with the lapel of her jacket. His eyes dart down, stare at her cleavage for a moment; she clears her throat pointedly, and he jerks his gaze to hers, grinning sheepishly. She leans forward, kisses away his apology.

Emilie tells him stories of her childhood as the sun continues to set on the horizon, heralding in a twilight that twinkles and shimmers with billions of stars. Rolling onto her back to stare at the sky, she talks about her family, how supportive and wonderful all three of her parents have been since she was a child, and the time she accidentally started a fire in her Home Ec class while trying to bake a cake. He laughs at that particular story, but Emilie doesn’t mind - it’s been long enough that she can laugh about it, too, though she’d been mortified beyond belief at the time.

She recounts the heartbreaks she endured in high school, and he holds her tightly as she struggles to talk about everything that’s happened with Danielle over the years. When the familiar anger at her former stepsister starts to grow, Emilie shakes her head and asks for stories from his childhood. Anything to not ruin tonight.

There is something peaceful about being here, held close by Niall as the night settles in over the city, that she doesn’t want to let go of. She can’t remember ever feeling this relaxed. Having been dating Niall for the last nine months certainly helps the easygoing nature of the date. She could almost fall asleep right where they are, even with the people still around and the chirping of insects.

“I kinda don’t wanna leave,” she admits on a whisper, and Niall laughs quietly.

“I don’t want to, either, but we have a child who needs us.”

“What do you wanna bet the internet is going to be full of photos of us?”

He shakes his head as he helps her to her feet, but he doesn’t deny the possibility, just folds up the blanket in silence then tucks it under his arm. They walk hand-in-hand back to the car, and Emilie wonders when they can do something like this again. It’s been perfect in how simple it was.

“No.”

Emilie exchanges a look with Niall then stares blankly at Louis, blinking as if it’ll clear up her confusion. “You - you can’t just keep him from us.”

“Yes, I can. Now shoo, go. I’m kidnapping your kid until tomorrow, so go enjoy having a night of, er, shall we call them ‘adult activities’?”

Louis winks before shutting the door in their faces. Emilie’s jaw drops as the lock clicks into place, but Niall begins laughing at her side. She turns to him, brows furrowed.

“He’s -”

“Giving us a chance to spend hours together, doing whatever we want without a toddler interrupting us. And, love?” His voice drops to a low murmur, sending a shiver up her spine, and his lips brush against her ear as he continues, “I have so many things I want to do.”

And who is Emilie to argue with _that_?


	37. thirty-seven.

Unfortunately, there are very little chances over the next two weeks for Emilie and Niall to catch up on all the dates they’ve not gone on over the last nine months. Niall has his job to get back to, which means he’s gone for days at a time. Emilie fills the extra time with picking up more shifts at Tiny Tots, taking Ryder on long walks in the parks, and school-work. Thankfully, she has two semesters left, and she’ll have her degree. It’s only been almost six years in the making.

The distance doesn’t seem so much, tempered by frequent FaceTime calls and pictures sent regularly of where he is and what he’s doing. More often than not, the simplest texts are the ones that make Emilie’s heart melt - _Miss you_ and _Saw the sunset tonight and thought of you_ and _Wish you and Ryder could be here, can’t wait to be home again_. She doesn’t expect much from him when he’s busy like this, but knowing that he misses them just as fiercely as they miss him… it’s good. Really good.

Emilie knows it’s selfish, but she’s inordinately glad when he texts her late at night on the second of April, letting her know that he’s on his way home. She debates putting up a token protest but decides against it. Seeing him again, especially so close to her birthday, is far more important than appearances of not being clingy. She doesn’t tell Ryder, though, for much the same reason as she didn’t tell him when they came to visit for Christmas: He’s not very good at the whole ‘patience’ thing.

Emilie glances back over her shoulder when someone clears their throat. Mully raises a brow, stares around the kitchen. She follows his gaze, grimacing when she realises she may have gone overboard with the cleaning. She clambers to her feet and tosses the cleaning pad into the sink. Her joints pop and crack, and Emilie lets out a soft groan at the relief that floods through her body.

“I know, I know.”

“You realise he’s not expecting or demanding the entire house be spotless, right?”

“I know. I just… I can’t sleep, so.” She gestures around herself then hops up to perch on the countertop. “This happened.”

Mully shakes his head with a laugh and leans against the counter beside her. “It’s after midnight, Em. C’mon, let’s have some tea, then you go to bed.”

“I still have some laundry to do.”

“And that can wait until he’s home.”

“You’re right,” she sighs after a long minute, stretching to wash her hands in the sink. “Why are you right?”

“Because I’m not an idiot.”

Emilie wants to argue further, to finish scrubbing every nook and cranny of the kitchen, but she knows Mully is right. So she sets about grabbing mugs from the cupboard while he heats up water. They work together in silence until the tea is done, then she drops into a chair at the table.

Now that she isn’t moving around constantly, the exhaustion is settling in with a pace that frightens her. She almost wonders if Mully spiked her tea when her back was turned, but she dismisses that thought as quickly as it comes. Mully would never, for one. Her fatigue is easily explained by the fact that she’s been awake since four this morning after a night of tossing and turning.

Since she started this relationship with Niall, sleeping without him has been her least favourite thing, but it’s just gotten worse since they started living together. The bed is too large and cold when he isn’t taking up half of it, and she can only cuddle with a pillow for so long before it becomes ineffective.

“And that’s my cue to help you to bed.”

Emilie jerks to attention at Mully’s soft chuckle, and she scrubs at her eyes. “Did I really fall asleep at the table?”

“I think it was more of a quick nap, really.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles as he guides her across the room, but she doesn’t hear his response. The moment she falls face-first onto the bed, she slips off to sleep.

**___________**

Emilie stirs to consciousness, burrowing deeper into the blankets on instinct, and tries to go back to sleep. Unfortunately, the warm body that curls along her back and the soft chuckle that meets her ear push her firmly into the realm of the living. She bites her bottom lip to stifle a smile, rolling over to face Niall.

“Hey, love.”

“Hi.”

“I will never not love watching you wake.”

“Nope, no kisses yet. Something died in my mouth overnight, so...”

Niall laughs but lets her clamber off the bed. Emilie blows him a kiss then scurries into the en suite to brush her teeth. Once she’s set the toothbrush into the holder and rinsed her mouth out, she splashes cold water onto her face. She doesn’t know what time it is right now, but Niall is finally home. Sleeping is no longer important.

He’s still lying down when she steps into the bedroom. Emilie finds a place at his side, cuddling against him, and exhales slowly. The missing piece of her settles back into place, and she could drown in the peace. Her eyes slip closed as she relaxes further into his side, his heartbeat steady under her ear.

“Wanna come with me later?” she asks quietly, her fingers skimming lightly over the planes of his abdomen. She won’t be upset if he chooses to stay home, but she wants as much time with him as possible.

“I think I’ll stay here with Ryder, if that’s okay.”

Emilie pulls back to meet his gaze; uncertainty swims in his blue eyes, as if he’s afraid of upsetting her. “Of course it’s okay, babe. I’m pretty sure we’ve proved over and over that we don’t have to be glued at the hip. Besides, Ry is gonna lose his mind that you’re home again.”

“Speaking of,” Niall whispers as tiny feet slap against the hardwood floor toward their bedroom.

The serenity of the morning is broken with an exuberant shrieking of Niall’s name, and Emilie moves out of the way so Ryder can climb up onto the bed and fling himself at Niall. She shakes her head with a soft laugh, kisses Ryder’s hair, and heads downstairs for coffee and breakfast.

The announcements overhead are garbled, but Emilie doesn’t care about listening. The flight has been declared_landing_, so all she cares about is passing the next handful of minutes. Ryder hadn’t even noticed her leaving the house, too enthralled with colouring in the dinosaur book Niall brought home with him. Mully offered to come with her, but she told him to spend some time with his friend.

“Oh, my god, I’ve missed the fuck out of you!”

Emilie turns to at the loud voice, grinning widely as Monica drops her bag to the floor. They rush toward each other, meet in the middle for an embrace that threatens to crush Emilie’s spine. Derek plasters himself along Emilie’s back, and she blinks back tears.

When Niall suggested a month ago having Derek and Monica fly in for her birthday, Emilie immediately vetoed it - she didn’t want them spending a lot of money. Of course, they told her to shut up and they were coming. Derek was mostly upset that he wouldn’t be able to bring wine with him, but the promise of stopping at a liquor store was enough to cheer him up again.

“You two ready?”

“Hell yeah,” Derek replies with a bright grin. “I getta get wine-drunk with you again. Why wouldn’t I be ready?”

“We’re not getting wine-drunk at two in the afternoon.”

Monica laughs. “I love how you think you have _any_ say in this.”

“Okay, lets get going. I wanna see this house you live in now that you’ve moved up in the world.”

Derek slings his arm over Emilie’s shoulders, and she rolls her eyes but lets him steer her toward the door. Monica walls with them, chattering on about new developments in the coffeeshop and her latest relationship. Emilie swallows thickly. Moving in with Niall was the smartest decision she ever made, but she still hates that she’s missing so much back in Austin. She wonders idly when the homesickness will end.

Her thoughts get derailed when Derek mentions that he’s brought Emilie’s mail with him - and there’s a letter from Danielle.


	38. thirty-eight.

Emilie absentmindedly leans down to kiss Niall’s cheek, but her attention is firmly on the letter she knows is in Derek’s bag. Niall frowns up at her, eyes dark, and Emilie shakes her head. She can’t talk about it. Not yet.

Biting her lip, she turns to Derek and holds out a hand. He digs through the clothes in his duffel bag until he comes up with a small pile of envelopes. She promises to be back in a bit then heads upstairs to read the letter in private.

Staring down at the familiar loops and swirls of Danielle’s handwriting is more painful than Emilie could have anticipated. She’s gone so long without thinking of her former stepsister, no matter the fact that she only has Ryder in her care because Danielle couldn’t get her act together and be a mother. Emilie had almost forgotten about all the pain and sacrifices at Danielle’s hand.

Emilie can’t put it off any longer. She peels back the flap, heart in her throat as she unfolds the paper.

> _Emilie,_
> 
> _I know I’m probably the last person you ever want to hear from, but I have something I have to say. I was selfish, immature, irresponsible, and - honestly? - dangerously negligent. Ryder didn’t deserve that. Our parents didn’t deserve it. You didn’t deserve it. But I did it anyway._
> 
> _I can’t change what I’ve done. I can’t change that I put myself before my son’s needs. His safety. I regret ever doing that to him. I regret ever putting you in the position of having to raise a child you didn’t give birth to. A child you have loved and cared for far more than I ever did. _
> 
> _I want to thank you. Because of your influence, that baby will grow up knowing love and safety and security. Yes, he should have gotten it from me, since I’m the one who gave him life. No. Scratch that. I gave him existence. You’re the one giving him life. It was never your responsibility. You shouldn’t be forced to shoulder the burden of my own choices. I can’t tell you how much I admire you for doing so, though. I don’t think I’d have done the same in your position._
> 
> _I’ve been going to therapy twice a week since I got here. Rehab, too, but in jail? Rehab isn’t nearly as luxurious as it’s been made out to be. I’ve also been doing a lot of soul searching. Trying to find the broken bits of me that made me so dark and self-involved. I don’t know, I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m trying to be the sister you deserve, the daughter our parents deserve. The mother that Ry deserved._
> 
> _I don’t know how to say this without sounding selfish as fuck but I don’t think I’ll be able to take Ryder back after this. Not because I don’t love him, but because I do. I’ve finally seen how much I love that little guy. But I can’t fuck up his life any more than I already have, by taking him away from the one constant he’s ever had in his life._
> 
> _You._
> 
> _You’re the only one who has been there for him every step of the way, no matter how much it messed up your life. You have been so amazing with him. And I can’t take that away. So I hope you can continue being there for him. If not…_
> 
> _Don’t feel obligated to reply. I promise I won’t take it personally. I just needed to say all this to you so you know. _
> 
> _Love the sister who wasn’t very sisterly,_   
_Danielle_

Bile rises in Emilie’s throat as she rereads the letter again. A small part of her appreciates that Danielle is finally getting the help she needs and owning up to her mistakes, but the larger part of her brain is so angry that it’s too little too late. Two years of her selfishness at the expense of her child, and Danielle thinks an apology will suffice? Emilie can’t think of any reason why she should accept the justification of her stepsister’s behaviour.

Ryder is the happy, carefree child he is only because of Emilie’s influence. Selfish though the thought may be, Emilie knows that he wouldn’t be nearly so well-adjusted if she hadn’t interfered. If she hadn’t taken over caring for him every time Danielle screwed up.

A tear drops onto the paper, smudging the ink, and Emilie sighs before blinking away the dampness in her eyes. _Who cares_, she thinks bitterly, _no point in worrying about Danielle any more. You have a kid to raise_. With another deep breath, she shoves the letter back into its envelope and puts it away in the nightstand drawer. She wipes at her face with the hem of her T-shirt, pushes to her feet, and makes her way downstairs.

“Bean?”

Emilie ignores Monica and scoops Ryder up into her arms. He whines when the dinosaur toy falls from his hand, but she just holds him close, breathes in the scent of baby shampoo.

“I love you so very much, Ryder Alexander. More than the rainbow.”

“What’d it say?” Derek asks once Emilie has set Ryder back down, and she blows out a breath before moving to sit on the couch next to Niall.

“Basically apologised for the shhh-tuff, stuff, she’s pulled over the last two years. Also, uh, said she can’t take him back when she gets out of jail.”

Niall pulls her close, presses a kiss to her temple. “Are you okay?”

“I mean, I guess? Like, logically, I knew she’d probably say something like that, but… her reasoning was unexpected. It wasn’t just ‘I’m too selfish to be a mother’, but ‘it’s best for him if I don’t take him from the one person he knows he can rely on’. So that’s a new development that I’m trying to wrap my mind around.”

No one speaks for a long moment, but then Ryder lets out a loud roar and stomps his dino toys across the floor. Emilie stares blankly for a second then bursts into giggles. It’s no surprise that the toddler has managed to break up the awkwardness of the silence. She leans further into Niall’s side and watches Ryder play with his toys, as her friends and boyfriend talk about golf and music and the plans for the rest of the day.

Even with her anger at Danielle’s letter, Emilie can’t think of anything that could make her life better. She may have the responsibility of raising a child, but she also loves that child more than life itself. She has great friends, wonderful parents, and the most amazing boyfriend she ever could have asked for. She reaches up with one hand, turns Niall’s face toward her, and interrupts whatever he’s saying with a tender kiss.


	39. thirty-nine.

Emilie draws in a steadying breath and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t look any older, still looks much the same as she did last night. Shaking her head, she hurries to brush her teeth. She hums tunelessly as she runs a comb through her hair and strips from the baggy T-shirt she wore to bed.

“Well, that’s fuckin’ unfair.”

She glances over her shoulder and sucks her lower lip between her teeth as Niall’s gaze rakes over her exposed body. “Well, you didn’t have to come in.”

“If I had more time…” Niall shakes his head jerkily as if to clear the naughty thoughts away. “Ry was looking forward to bringing you breakfast in bed, so could you please get back in bed?”

“Give me thirty seconds.”

He darts forward to kiss her, stealing her breath, and Emilie loops her arms around his shoulders to tug him more closely. His hands skim along her sides, leaving burning paths on her skin. She forgets about her birthday, the plans, everything but him. Unfortunately, he pulls away far too soon.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but please put some clothes on.”

“How badly did _that_ hurt to say?” she giggles, and his nose scrunches up.

“Too much. Now shoo. I’ll go get Ryder.”

Niall leaves without another word, though he does stop in the doorway to stare at her for a second. Emilie rolls her eyes and pointedly turns away. He groans, low in his throat, then he’s gone. She doesn’t bother dressing in more than the sleeveless tunic she’d set out last night; the duvet will cover most of her anyway.

Grabbing the pair of shorts on her way out of the bathroom, Emilie drops them to the floor next to the bed and slides in between the sheets. She’s just gotten settled in, pretending as if she is still asleep, when the door to the room creaks open.

“An Em s’eep?” Ryder whispers as well as a toddler can whisper.

“Yeah, bud, she’s sleeping. Why don’t you climb up there and see if you can wake her?”

Emilie ‘wakes up’ to the weight of a small child falling against her back, and Ryder squeals when he sees her eyes opening, pressing a sloppy and very slobbery kiss to her cheek. She carefully rolls over, tucks him into her side. Niall stands at the end of the bed, and the smile on his face warms her to the core. It’s soft and sweet and everything she’s hoped for all her life.

“What do we say, Ry?” he prompts, resulting in Ryder throwing his arms in the air.

“Hap’ birfday, An’ Em!”

“What?” Emilie gasps dramatically. “It’s my birthday? No way. Ryder, is this a trick against your favourite auntie?”

“No! No t’ick! Is your birfday!”

“Oh? How old am I today, then?”

Ryder’s lips turn down at the corners, brows drawing together over sky-blue eyes, then his face brightens. “Million!”

“Well, that’s rude,” she manages before breaking down into laughter.

Ryder screeches and squirms as she tickles him, and the world feels right. This is so much better than she could ever have dreamt up. Niall clears his throat, nodding toward the tray in his hands, and Emilie kisses Ryder’s forehead and settles down.

Tears prick at her eyes when Niall sets the tray across her lap. She ignores the food in lieu of picking up the piece of paper; it’s been folded in half, and the inside is covered in a rainbow of crayon scribbles. At the bottom is an uneven _Ryder_, like Niall helped the toddler write his name but the difference in which hand they use made it impossible. Emilie coughs quietly, sets the card on the nightstand, and turns her attention to the bowl of -

“Is… is this your dino egg oatmeal?” she asks; Ryder nods enthusiastically, reaching for the spoon.

“I share!”

She doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before the child is pushing the spoon up to her mouth. It is a lot harder than it should be to not laugh, especially when Niall sighs and sits on the bed next to Ryder. Emilie takes the spoon from her godson thanking him for the assistance, and licks the oatmeal off her lips. Niall shifts when she catches his eye, her tongue dragging slowly along the curve of her bottom lip.

“Not fair,” he murmurs lowly, and Emilie flashes him an innocent grin.

Within minutes, Ryder grows restless. He tries but fails to sit still between the adults. Niall smiles apologetically, lifts Ryder into his arms, and Emilie watches them go. She sets the tray on the bed beside her thigh and reaches for her phone. It’s almost eight, so she swings her legs over the side of the bed, ducking down to grab her shorts off the floor.

She rushes to put on her bikini and tugs the shorts up her legs, buttoning them on her way back to the bed. Voices carry up the stairs, and Emilie smiles to herself as she carries the tray down to the kitchen.

Derek raises a mug of coffee in greeting the instant he catches sight of her. “Happy birthday, babe.”

“Thanks, D.”

Monica takes the tray from Emilie, pushing her toward the table. Emilie drops into the seat to Harry’s right and stares around at the people gathered here. She didn’t expect much for her birthday - a day spent with Niall and Mully and Ryder, video-chatting with Derek and Monica, calling her parents. Maybe some drinks before bed.

This is far more, and it isn’t nearly done.

A heady buzzing thrums in her veins, warmth swirling throughout her soul, and Emilie leans to the side to rest her head on Harry’s shoulder. He presses his lips to her hair but otherwise doesn’t stop his conversation with Louis and Derek. Niall sets a cup of coffee in front of her. She grins up at him, accepting the kiss he drops to her lips.

“Happy birthday, petal,” he murmurs before kissing her again.

Ryder squeals. “Ew, no kiss!”

“I can’t kiss Ni-Ni?”

“No!”

“Can I kiss _you_ then?”

Ryder stares at her, wide-eyed, and shrieks out a no, but Emilie is already up out of her seat. He toddles away, laughing as his aunt gives chase. Monica sweeps him up off his feet and holds him close, and he giggles over her shoulder at Emilie.

“Monie protect me!”

Arms snake around her waist, settling in the curve of her sides, and she turns her head to see Niall standing there. There’s a gentleness to his eyes that makes them brighter, softer and so full of - _something_. Emilie swallows against the emotions that well up in her throat, her fingers encircling Niall’s wrist. He rests his forehead against her temple.

“Maybe you shouldn’t antagonise the child, love.”

“Fine, if I _have_ to be a good auntie and leave him alone. Wait, is someone here?”

Niall shrugs, but the twitch to his lips tells her he knows something he isn’t saying. “I don’t know, why don’t you go check?”

The floor falls out from beneath her feet when she looks out the front window, and she would be mortified by her ridiculously loud squeak if she wasn’t so surprised. Laughter follows her as she scrambles to the door, pauses just long enough to slide a pair of sandals onto her feet. She rushes outside, leaving the door wide open behind her.

“_Mom_!”

Rose immediately opens her arms as her daughter closes the gap between them. Emilie clings to her mother tightly, and tears slip from the corners of her eyes. She hasn’t seen her mother in person for an entire year; video-chats are fine for the most part, but being able to hug her mom tightly is so much better.

“Lemme get a look at you, baby.” Rose brushes a hand gently over Emilie’s hair, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Oh, twenty-six looks good on you.”

“Don’t hog her to yourself, Rosie.”

Emilie giggles and turns to her father, throwing her arms around his neck. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”

“Thanks! So, uh, how…?”

Rose laughs. “That lovely boyfriend of yours called me a few weeks ago, asked if we’d want to come spend your birthday with you. He thought he’d have to convince us, kept saying that Monica and Derek would be here, too. Does he not know that he doesn’t need to ramble so much?”

“He’s… not very good with words sometimes,” Emilie admits then embraces her mom again. “Okay. C’mon, I’m sure everybody has been waiting to meet you.”

“Who exactly is ‘everybody’?” her mother asks slowly.

Emilie merely grins in response, looping her arm with her mom’s, and the trio sets off toward the door. The house behind is nearly quiet. It would be completely silent if not for the chatter of two toddlers in the living room and the faint conversations that carry through from the patio.

“Where’s my Ryder Alexander?”

“Papaw!”

“Shoes off, please,” Emilie says as her dad takes a step toward the child currently mimicking a heat-seeming missile. “It’s basically the only rule I brought to the house. Trust me, it wasn’t easy for Niall to adjust to that one, but he did it, so you can, too.”

Jackson rolls his eyes but does as directed. Emilie follows him into the living room, smiles at Louis who is helping Freddie build a tower with blocks. He does a double-take when he catches sight of her parents.

“Fucking Hell, you and your mum could be twins!”

“I like this one,” Rose announces with a soft laugh, and Emilie shakes her head.

“Yes, because I didn’t hear _that_ all the time when I was growing up. Mom, Daddy, this is Louis, one of my new bestest friends, and that adorable monster there is the Fredster.”

“Nice to meet you. Emilie has told us a lot about you two.”

“Hope it was good things.”

Emilie stifles a sigh at her father’s short tone but decides not to call him out on it. Poor man has loads of new people to meet today, and he’s not exactly the most conversational person on the planet. She pats his arm comfortingly.

“Only the truth, Daddy. Uh, I’m gonna go find Niall. You stayin’ in here with Ry?”

“That okay?”

“No, not at all. You’re not allowed to spend any time with the grandchild you haven’t seen in months because I’m just that cruel. Yes, of course it’s okay.”

“Not too old to be grounded, young lady.”

“I’d like to see you try, old man.”

“All right, that’s enough,” interjects Rose, holding her hands up between father and daughter. “Louis doesn’t wanna hear y’all bickering. Emmy, mind if I come with you?”

Emilie sticks her tongue out at her dad then dances out of reach when he swats at her. His lips quirk up into a smile, though, so she turns on her heel and leads her mom through the house to the back door. Rose makes noises of approval as she takes in the sights. Emilie smiles and steps out onto the patio.

Niall looks up from where he’s stood by the grill with Mully, eyes narrowed in the bright sunlight, and Emilie inhales shakily. This is it - the moment the man she loves meets the woman who raised her. She wraps her arm around her mom’s, pulling her out into the mid-morning heat.

“Hey, babe and everyone else, this is my lovely mother. Mom, this is my boyfriend, Niall, and that’s Mully, Harry, Monica, and Derek.”

To her surprise, her mother immediately opens her arms to Niall, and Emilie could die with how purely his smile spreads across his face as he embraces Rose. Monica flashes Emilie a thumbs-up, nodding enthusiastically, and then Rose is moving through the rest of them, hugging each of her daughter’s friends just as tightly.

“Thank y’all for taking care of my baby.”

Niall meets Emilie’s eye and pulls her into his arms, not looking away even as he says, “Thank you for giving us someone so wonderful to love and care for.”


	40. forty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll be honest - i wasn't sure about doing a double-update this week, or even posting at all. but i know there are many people, myself included, who use fanfiction as a way to escape the horrors of reality. with that being said, **_please_** go [here](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) for ways to help with the BLM movement. (my poor email box is worn out with all the emails i've sent because that's all i can do right now besides donate). 
> 
> peace, love, rainbows, and unicorn farts   
xx

Niall tosses the last toy into the bin and sets it off to the side, out of the way so no one trips over it. He can hear the laughter from the patio, everyone in high moods as dinnertime approaches. The children have been easy to wrangle today, which is shocking - Niall fully expected that Ryder would be upset about having to share his toys and the attention of his grandparents.

Surprising Emilie by having her parents fly in had been the hardest secret that Niall has ever had to keep. She’d acted like it wasn’t bothering her, going another birthday without seeing them, but Niall could see the sadness in her eyes whenever they were brought up in conversation. It hadn’t taken a genius to put together the plan. All it took was three days of trying to get a hold of her phone to get her mother’s number and one simple conversation for the plan to be set in motion.

Niall’s heart had nearly burst from his chest at the pure joy on her face when she saw Jackson and Rose out front, the way she’d barely been able to stay on her feet as she rushed out the door… The warmth of his pride at making her so happy remains still, thrumming in his blood and coursing through his veins. All Niall wants is to make Emilie smile like she’s done today, every day for the rest of his life. He would kill to see that smile.

He loves that smile.

He loves _her_.

“Can I talk to you?”

Niall forces himself not to react to the sudden voice from the doorway, turning to face Emilie’s father. “Of course.”

It takes all of his willpower to remain still under Jackson’s scrutiny. There is no amusement on the man’s face, and Niall wonders idly if this is the part where he threatens to hurt Niall if he ever hurts Emilie. It’s not exactly something Niall plans on doing, but he knows no amount of talking will sway the father from worrying about his daughter. Jackson sighs, crosses his arms over his chest, and glances back over his shoulder, ostensibly to be sure they are alone.

“I’m… not going to tell you that I’ll kill you if you ever cause Emilie any pain. I don’t believe in that shit. Someone should treat their partner right because they love them, not because they were coerced by threats to their well-being. Besides, my baby can take care of herself. But you hurt her even once? I won’t ever forgive you. I’ll be civil because that’s what Emmy would want, but I will never lift a finger to help you. If you were on fire? I’d grab a chair, pop open a beer, and watch you burn. We clear?”

Somehow, that statement is more intimidating than any of the typical father speeches. Niall swallows thickly and nods. “Yes, sir. For what it’s worth, hurting her is basically the last thing I’d ever want to do. She- she means a lot to me, Mister Ellis, and so does Ryder.”

“She really cares for you.” Jackson blows out a breath, gesturing toward the couch. Niall nods, sits after the other man does. “Ryder, well, he’s a kid. He pretty much loves anyone who pays him attention. But Em? She’s guarded, if you haven’t noticed. The bullshit with Danielle really put her walls up. She tried so hard to get Dani to change her ways, to love her family enough to fix herself. All Danielle did was let her down, which wasn’t exactly a good reason to convince Emmy to open herself up to the potential of being hurt like that.

“And as amicable as my divorce from her mama was, it still wasn’t easy for a six-year-old. And now that I’m divorced from her stepmom? It doesn’t really give her faith in relationships. She gets that from me, I guess. But when she looks at you… Niall, she’s happier than I’ve ever seen her be. She looks at you like you’ve given her the universe, and I’m so fuckin’ glad to see that. Please treat her the way she deserves, because she’s the best thing to come to my life. No matter what else I may do wrong, that girl has been my baby for twenty-six years, and the only thing I have ever wanted for her was to be happy and have a fulfilling life.”

“I promise to do my best. I-I still find it hard to believe that she ever gave me a chance.” Niall runs his fingers through his hair and blinks against the heat in his eyes. “I wake up every day thanking the stars for bringing this amazing, beautiful, funny woman into my life, and every night, I go to bed praying for another day with her.”

Jackson doesn’t say anything, but the dampness in his eyes and the smile on his face is enough. It tells Niall that he’s said the right thing. That putting the words - the _truth_ \- out there was exactly what he needed to do. Emilie’s father claps a hand to Niall’s shoulder and jerks his head toward the back door. Niall nods, follows him out onto the patio.

**[_-_-_-_]**

Emilie helps Monica and Harry set the table as Mully finishes up at the grill. Louis and Derek struggle to get the large umbrella set up around the kids’ seats, while Harry sits back and laughs, mocking them without malice. But then Rose pins him with a pointed look, and he scurries to his feet to assist the other two. Emilie suppresses a giggle; her mother’s Mom Stare has never failed to work on even the most stubborn of people, Emilie should know - she’s stubborn as they come.

“Where’s Daddy and Niall?” she asks when she realises they’re nowhere to be seen.

“Your dad wanted to talk to him, ‘man to man’, so...” Rose shrugs. “I’m sure they’re fine, sweetheart. You know your dad isn’t the type to threaten.”

Her mom is right, but Emilie can’t help but worry anyway. She hasn’t even told Niall she loves him yet, and if her father scares him off, she’ll never get the chance. That train of thought dives further into the land of doubts. What does it mean that they’ve been dating for almost a year and she still can’t get the words out? Could she really not love him?

Someone jostles her, rips her from her thoughts, and Emilie forces a smile at Monica. Her friend smiles, squeezes her hand gently.

“Need a map to get out of that mind of yours?”

“Nope, I’m okay. Thanks. I, um, I’m gonna go find the other two so we can eat.”

“No need, honey, we’re here.”

Emilie exhales slowly then turns toward her boyfriend. She can’t quite read the expression on his face, but there isn’t any abject fear, so she takes comfort in the possibility that he isn’t going to run screaming for the hills any time soon. He pivots on his heel and scoops up Ryder as he runs by, all in one smooth motion, and Emilie stares. Even with all the practice, she can never be that smooth when trying to catch the little bugger. She doesn’t get the chance to say anything about it as her mother guides her to sit.

Ryder stares down at the plate Rose sets in front of him, face screwing up as he pushes it away. “No beans.”

“Ry, you gotta eat your green beans,” Emilie says gently, nudging the plate back in front of him only for him to shove it away again. She blows out a breath and ignores the multiple sets of eyes on her. “Buddy, come on.”

Niall must be able to sense her building frustration because he shifts to face the child fully, ducking his head so they’re on the same level. “Okay, so no green beans. Got it. You want peas instead then?”

“No peas, p’ease.”

“You have a choice of green beans or peas, bud. Which is it?”

“Bock-lee,” mutters Ryder petulantly; he crosses his arms over his chest and slumps in his seat, and Niall has to turn away before he laughs. The others have no such compunction.

“Unfortunately for you, broccoli wasn’t an option. Peas or green beans. I have an idea!” He says it as if it’s the greatest, most surprising idea in all of history, and Ryder glances up at Niall, reluctantly interested. “How abut you take one wee bite of a green bean for me?”

Ryder takes the vegetable and stares at it. At Niall’s steady encouragement, he nibbles the end of the green bean and then promptly shoves it into his mouth. Niall stifles a chuckle and stabs at a pea with his fork, holding the silverware out to the child. Ryder is less hesitant this time, grabbing the pea from the tines of the fork and smashing it into his mouth. He blanches and spits the mushed pea onto his plate.

“Green beans then?”

“Beans p’ease.”

Crisis averted, Niall turns back to his plate of food, and conversations start up again. Emilie can’t keep her eyes off her boyfriend. He managed to convince a two-year-old to eat with minimal fuss. Niall is obviously a miracle worker.

Rose nudges her daughter, gaze darting between Niall and Emilie, and nods approvingly. Emilie looks back at Niall as he gently pushes Ryder’s hand away from the green beans on his plate, reminds the child to eat his own food. She traces a heart onto the tabletop with a finger, and her mother’s smile softens.


	41. forty-one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_please_** go [here](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) for ways to help with the BLM movement.

Niall gestures for Emilie to stay where she is, pushing to his feet and gathering up dishes. She pouts and pulls her hand back, skin stinging from the smack that Rose gave her. Her mother laughs.

“It’s your birthday. You aren’t allowed to clean up.”

“Why don’t you and Lou take the boys upstairs and get them ready for swimming?” Niall suggests before ducking into the house.

Exchanging a quick look with Louis, Emilie accepts the new plan. Ryder babbles as she carries him up to his bedroom where two pairs of toddler swim shorts and floaties rest on the bed. Louis sets Freddie down then heads to the bathroom to wet a washcloth.

The boys wiggle excitedly as the adults wipe their faces and hands clean. It takes far longer than it should to get them changed, and Emilie bites her tongue when Ryder refuses to stand still long enough for her to slather sunblock onto his skin. Eventually, though, she’s got Ryder scooped up into her arms, Louis carrying Freddie, and they head back down to the patio.

“Uh, Ry? You have to come into the pool in order to learn to swim.”

“I no swim.”

Emilie stifles a laugh and pushes herself up to sit on the side of the pool. Ryder lets her pull him into her lap, resting his head on her shoulder. She watches Louis and Freddie as they splash around a few feet away, Monica lounging on a raft at the far end. Her parents are chatting with Mully and Niall off to the side.

“Why don’t you wanna come in the pool, baby? Scared?” At Ryder’s reluctant nod, Emilie presses a kiss to his forehead. “I’m right here with you, okay, baby? I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. Trust?”

After a long moment, he finally whispers “Trust,” so Emilie sets him to the side before sliding back into the water. Ryder stares at her outstretched hands with wide eyes then tentatively steps forward. Emilie gives him as encouraging of a smile as she can as she carefully lowers him into the water. He squeaks once he’s fully in, the water lapping at the bottom of his chin.

She shifts her grip until her arms are under his belly, murmuring assurances and directions in turns. He seems to get the mechanics down fairly quickly and doesn’t even notice when Emilie pulls her hands away, letting him float and kick on his own. She pretends there aren’t tears in her eyes as Ryder shouts for everyone to watch him.

Emilie glances over to see Niall is watching her instead, and his lips curve into a sweet, soft, achingly tender smile. Her skin heats up with more than the late afternoon sunshine; he always has this effect on her, even when there isn’t reason for her heart to race or to stutter in her chest. She ducks her head to hide her own smile and reaches out to grab onto Ryder’s floatie to stop him from swimming right into Freddie.

“C’mon, bud, it’s time for bed.”

Ryder pouts up at Niall, burrows closer to Jackson. “I stay Papaw.”

Thankfully, Jackson has always refused to be the type of grandparent who caves and undermines the rules set by the parents - or in this case, the guardian and her boyfriend. He kisses Ryder’s damp hair and hugs him tightly. Emilie bites her lip to stop her giggle when Ryder goes limp to protest being passed over to Niall’s waiting arms.

As Niall carries Ryder around to give everyone goodnight hugs and kisses, Emilie wraps her towel more securely around her waist. Freddie rubs his eyes tiredly, yawning from where he sits on his father’s lap.

“All right, looks like it’s a two-fer tonight.”

“Em, no, it’s your birthday. He -”

“Can stay the night with his little buddy Ry. Really, Louis, it’s not a problem.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I mean, if you _really_ want to take him back home tonight, go ahead, you can disappoint the kiddos yourself.”

“Fine.”

Emilie waits until Louis has kissed and embraced Freddie then scoops him up against her chest. He whines softly and settles in with his face pressed to her neck. He’s snoring before she even reaches the door to the kitchen. Promising her parents and friends that they’ll be right back, Emilie follows Niall through the house to the stairs.

He doesn’t let her linger once she’s tucked both kids into the bed, telling her to go join the party while he tells Ryder and Freddie a bedtime story. Emilie kisses him gently then does as he says. He’s too stubborn to argue with, and making this into a Discussion would only serve to upset the boys.

Rose stops Emilie before she can get too far onto the patio, and Emilie drops into the seat next to her mother, rests her head on Rose’s shoulder. They watch the others talking or splashing in the pool for a minute. Then Rose exhales slowly.

“He’s amazing, sweetheart. I just… I always imagined you’d fall for someone great, but he surpasses even my expectations.”

“He definitely is fuckin’ perfect.” Emilie sighs and wipes away a droplet of water that slips from her hairline. “I still can’t believe he ever fell for me.”

“Emilie Taylor, you -”

“No, lemme explain before you get all biased and Mama Grizzly, yeah? I mean, when he and I met, I was just a random stranger in a coffeeshop sat at the only table with a spare seat. Just a lonely journalism student who had no time for anything because of school and being mother to a toddler who isn’t even hers. Within hours of us meeting, I told him about Ryder. That alone should have sent him running, but he came over to hang out the very next day. And now, even after a year, he’s still here.”

“Well, you certainly deserve to be happy. And I am so thankful that he makes you happy. Your dad approves of him, too,” Rose whispers conspiratorially, and Emilie lets out a quiet laugh - she’d been worried, no matter how hard she’s tried to not let it show, so her mother’s words come as a blessing.

“Hey, mind if I steal your daughter away for a bit?” Monica calls from the pool, grinning brightly when Emilie and Rose look over. “We wanna play Chicken, but we’re down a player if we want three teams.”

Rose chuckles and pushes at Emilie’s shoulder. “Go, honey, go have fun.”

So Emilie does.

Niall comes back outside a few minutes later, and Monica manages to knock Emilie off of Mully’s shoulders when Emilie gets distracted by her boyfriend stripping off his shirt. She surfaces with a splutter, shoves a wall of water toward her friend, but can’t stop laughing. Especially when Monica waggles her eyebrows in an exaggerated manner as Niall drops into the pool.

Her laughter is cut off by him swimming up to her, pinning her between his body and the wall, and kissing her hard in front of everyone. She ignores the catcalls from their friends, wraps her arms around his shoulders. He smiles against her lips as she pulls him even closer.

_I love this man I love this man I love this man._


	42. forty-two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this isn't over. **_please_** go [here](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/) for ways to help with the BLM movement.

Emilie pouts against his lips when Niall wraps his fingers around her wrists, halting her hands in their task of skimming along his skin. He doesn’t stop kissing her, but he makes it perfectly clear that this is all he will allow. Sighing, she drops her head back to the pillow and frowns up at the ceiling.

“You’ve had a lot to drink tonight,” he whispers, laughing quietly when she rolls her eyes. “I won’t take advantage of that.”

“But we’ve done this many times, and you know I want to.”

He presses a soft kiss to the tip of her nose. “I want to, too, but I want you fully there. I want you to have a clear mind.”

“Fine. If you wanna be logical about it.”

“I do.”

She grumbles but lets him move away from her, and he drapes an arm over her belly once he’s lying on his side next to her. Emilie rolls to face him, lets her fingers trace along the line of his jaw up to the curve of his brow. Niall exhales slowly, steadily, as Emilie shifts closer.

This kiss is gentle and sweet, and Emilie’s stomach lurches at the aching pleasure that overflows, spilling through her and painting her blood with its warmth. She presses her fingertips into his skin and yearns for more, anything to match the heat that consumes her. Niall follows where her hands push him, sprawling on his back while she moves to straddle him.

Her skin burns in the most pleasant of ways as his hands slide along her back, rucking up her shirt in his movements. His nails drag lightly across her spine, and she bites back a moan even as her hips move of their own accord. A gasp bursts from her when he nips at her lower lip and chuckles breathlessly at her reaction.

“Please?” she murmurs into the kiss, and she fears the spell is broken by her quiet plea - Niall yanks his head back to stare up at her with eyes darkened by want. “I promise I’m not drunk to the point of not knowing what I’m doing. I’ve been drinking, yes, but I am completely in my right mind. Please, Niall, let me make my own choices.”

He blows out a breath, mouth opening to say something, but Emilie ducks down to trail a line of kisses from the corner of his mouth, along his jaw, to the column of his throat. He lets out a strangled groan when she sucks lightly at the skin there, and she counts it as a victory as she moves against him.

“You’ll have to be quiet, can you do that?”

She pulls away to meet his eye. Confusion wars with her desire, and Niall grins before rolling the both of them so that she’s on her back. Her fingers clench the bedsheets tightly, hips lifting so he can pull off her pyjama bottoms, and her heart thunders in her chest as he settles between her thighs.

“_Fuck_,” she groans, and his laugh ghosts across her skin; the last coherent thought in her mind is that this is the best ending to the best birthday ever.

****

_______________

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Emilie chirps as Monica shuffles into the kitchen late the following morning. “You look like shit.”

“Did you know Derek snores? Like, full-on, loud-as-thunder snores?”

“I did not. Coffee’s in the pot.”

“It’s quiet in here, did everyone run away?”

“Nah.” Emilie crosses the room to refill her own mug, reaching around Monica for the sugar bowl. “Harry went home, Mully went to his girlfriend’s, and the rest are outside enjoying the sunshine. So come on.”

As Emilie and Monica step out onto the patio, Niall looks up from the conversation he’s holding with Jackson, smiling brightly before turning away - but not soon enough. Monica evidently has seen the pale bruising that Emilie left on Niall’s throat last night, and she nudges Emilie sharply.

“You gave him a hickey!”

“Hey, watch the hot coffee. Besides…”

Emilie turns so her back is to everyone else, pulling down the edge of her tank-top to show off the identical mark on the swell of her right breast. Monica gapes then shifts to stare at Niall over Emilie’s shoulder. Before she can say anything, Emilie claps a hand over her mouth.

“No. He’s already feeling awkward enough about the fact that it even happened while my parents were right down the hall. And the fact that my concealer? Not exactly his shade. Hence why we can even see the hickey because it looked like I smeared bleach on his skin if I put more concealer on.”

“How awkward was it? That your parents were in the same house while you two got nasty.”

“I… didn’t think about it,” Emilie replies as she leads Monica toward the table. “I had other things on my mind at the time.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“What were you girls talking about?” Rose asks, and Emilie grimaces and hopes that Monica has at least an ounce of decorum.

Unfortunately, it turns out to be the complete opposite. Monica, thankfully, has the decency to keep her voice lowered as she informs Rose that they were discussing the hickeys that Emilie and Niall gave each other. Emilie groans and lets her head drop to the tabletop. Her mother doesn’t speak for a moment then lets out a soft laugh.

“I suppose I asked.”

Monica runs her hand through Emilie’s hair, scratching lightly at her scalp. “Sorry, Bean. I’ll stop embarrassing you now.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks.”

“So you haven’t talked about the creep in a while. Everything sorted with that?”

“What creep?”

Emilie winces and slowly lifts her head. Niall smiles apologetically, but she can’t focus on anything except her dad’s displeased expression. Sighing, she takes a sip of her coffee and shrugs. No one says anything, the only sounds coming from birds and toddlers as they roll a ball between them in the grass.

“I, uh, had a problem with this guy at work. He’s the father of one of the kids, and I just got weird vibes from him from the get-go. It’s fine.” She holds up a hand when Jackson goes to speak, interrupting him quickly. “Dad. It’s okay. I’m never on my own. It’s... inconvenient, I’ll admit it, but my coworkers and I look out for each other. He hasn’t tried anything since he cornered me to ask me out. As I said, it’s fine now.”

“Well, why the Hell is he still allowed on the grounds?”

“Because we don’t make it a habit of punishing a child for their parents, and forcing Lily out of the daycare just because her dad is a creep would punish her.”

“If he does -”

“If he does anything, the cops will be called and I will press charges.”

Niall clears his throat, and Jackson finally drags his gaze from his daughter. “She’s not on her own, Mister Ellis. Between her coworkers and me, Emilie is safe.”

“Good. I won’t hesitate to go to prison for murder.”

“And that’s my cue to change the subject,” Emilie announces, slapping the table with her hand. “Derek, I hear you’re a snorer.”

“Filthy lies,” Derek replies instantly, and Emilie loses it.

****

[-_-_-_-]

Emilie pushes herself to her feet, runs her fingers through Niall’s hair as she passes, and makes her way upstairs. It’s been five days since her birthday, and she has done her best to make the most of the remaining time she has with Niall before he gets busy again. He managed to clear a week from his schedule, but the impending events loom ever closer.

She knows this is ridiculous, that there’s no reason for this, but she hasn’t been able to settle down tonight. There is nothing to make her think that Ryder is anything other than safely asleep in his bed. She just can’t stop herself from checking on him.

The door squeaks softly as she pushes it open, and she freezes just inside the room.

The bed is empty.

Heart pounding in her chest, Emilie runs to the bed, ducking down to check under the frame. No Ryder. She can’t breathe as she turns to the closet. He hasn’t hidden in the bottom of the closet before, not even during games of hide-and-seek, but she can’t not check everywhere possible. Toy-box, play tent, between the dresser and wall…

Ryder is nowhere to be found.

Emilie’s throat tightens, and she gasps for air. Her vision pulses at the edges, palms clammy and skin on fire with cold. Tears prick at her eyes as she stumbles down the hall, down the stairs to the living room.

Niall, Mully, and Louis fall silent at her reappearance, but Emilie ignores them, turning toward her boyfriend. He stands and hurries to her side. She swallows thickly, hands shaking as she waves them about in an attempt to bring forth words. Her stomach churns violently, threatens to expel the dinner and wine she’s ingested.

“Em? What’s wrong?”

“I- I can’t find Ryder. He’s not in bed, not anywhere in his room. I _can’t find him_.”


	43. forty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i totally meant to make y'all wait for the resolution  
to the last chapter. luckily, i was told i'm not  
allowed to do that. so... here ya go.  
________________________

Niall stares blankly at her for a second, then his brows furrow. Emilie’s breath hitches as he rests his hands on her shoulders, fingers pressing firmly into her skin. The pressure isn’t nearly as calming as it usually is.

“Darling, breathe. Ry woke up from a bad dream while you were outside, so I put him in our bed. It’s okay.”

She exhales sharply, nearly collapses in on herself. Her skin grows hot and prickly when she realises the others are staring her. How could she not think to look in the bedroom she shares with Niall? It certainly isn’t the first time that Ryder has slept in their bed. But she can’t calm down even with the reassurance that he’s safe.

Emilie pushes away from Niall, storming out to the patio on weak knees. Her fingernails are sharp in her scalp as she clutches at her hair, a scream rising in her throat. She bites her bottom lip to quell the sob - the bile that creeps up from her stomach, the panic and self-hatred colliding and exploding in her chest. Her knees threaten to buckle while she hurries down the steps to the backyard.

She’s thankful that Niall was there for Ryder, that he calmed the child and got him back to sleep. But she should have been. Her. As his stand-in mother, she is the one who was supposed to comfort him. Not Niall. It wasn’t his job, his responsibility, his _place_ to do that.

She can’t get her mind to relax. Thoughts swirl, nebulous and overwhelming in their murky darkness, as her lungs grow six sizes too small. The panic tightens its grip, its claws ingrained in her gut and scratching a reminder into her heart that she is a failure. Blood roars in her ears, and she chokes on her breaths.

Emilie can barely walk straight, so she avoids going near the pool. The last thing she needs right now is to drown - though it might be preferable compared to the emotional onslaught that crashes down over her. Drawing in an unsteady breath, she tries to focus on anything but the doubts and self-disgust.

But she’s numb to the warm grass that prickles against the bottom of her feet. She can’t feel the humid heat that lingers though the sun went down almost two hours ago. Her skin crawls as she passes through the light that spreads across the yard from the large windows. Coughing to dislodge the lump in her throat, Emilie sniffles and scrubs a hand over her cheeks.

“Emilie, can you look at me?”

Her steps falter, but she doesn’t stop pacing. “N-no.”

“Please, love.”

She reluctantly lets Niall pull her to a stop in front of him, and her eyes close so she won’t have to see the concern on her face. His arms are too heavy as they wrap around her shoulders, though she rests her forehead against him and sobs. Niall holds her tightly to him, not speaking, just offering comfort and steadiness while she falls apart.

“What’s wrong?” he murmurs quietly. She flinches anyway, tugging away. “Talk to me, please.”

She forces out a watery laugh and scrubs at her face with the palm of her hand. “Nothing. Just... nothing.”

“Emilie Taylor, stop. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I just...” She sighs, slumping as she covers her face with her hands. “I’m tired. I’m so goddamn tired. I’m always so scared that I’m going to, to fail at this whole motherhood thing. Anytime I have to scold him or actually do anything besides play with him, I get suffocated by this fear that he’s going to grow up resenting me. It’s easy to ignore it most of the time - I mean, I can’t be worse than Danielle, that’s for fucking sure - but tonight just seemed to solidify that I _deserve_ to feel this way.”

“What are you talking about?”

Emilie sniffles, closes her eyes. “_You_ were there for him. I was too busy selfishly hanging out and smoking with Louis, having a grand ol’ time, to even know Ryder had a nightmare. But you knew. You knew, and you fixed it. You have been so damn wonderful to and for him, and god, Niall... it’s not fair to you.”

Her words echo in the silence between them, and she watches him closely, can see exactly when he realises what she means. His lips press together until they’re barely more than a jagged line in his face. His jaw tics, and she knows this is going to hurt like Hell. Goodbyes never have been difficult for her, but this... this is different. _He_ is different.

To her surprise, he inhales deeply, steadily, and reaches for her.

“I know this is hard. It’s not easy on me, either, coming in and trying to find my footing in a family made before I ever found it. I understand the fears and constant second-guessing yourself. But I don’t want you to assume that you know what’s best for me, _us_, and end what we have. Because that isn’t fair to me.”

Emilie wrenches out of his grasp, laughing without humour. “Why the fuck not? It’s _not_ fair. You didn’t sign up for this!” she nearly shouts as she gestures in the direction of the house. “You and I were content with being fuck-buddies or whatever when you had time away from your responsibilities, and then that changed. Now you’ve had me and a child taking over your house, your life. Why the Hell would you be okay with this?”

“Because I fucking love you, damn it!”

Her head snaps back a bit, and she gapes, wide-eyed and stunned into silence, at him. Niall sighs heavily and shoves his hand through his hair. Neither of them speaks for a long minute; her world feels like it’s been flipped completely wrong-side-up, and her tongue is stone in her mouth. He grabs her hand, grip tightening when she tries to pull away.

“Listen to me, Emilie. Yes, we started out as friends with benefits. Yes, that was nice. But I told you all those months ago that I don’t do casual well. I came to your flat, off my face and terrified that if you knew, you’d run away from all this because it wasn’t what you wanted. I had that necklace in my pocket that night. I bought it weeks before, but that was the night I got the courage to give it to you, and that was only because I drank so much.”

“Niall, stop, don’t do this,” she pleads, though her voice cracks.

“No, love, I’m not good with words, I know this, but I need you to hear me.” His hands are warm on her cheeks, and she closes her eyes as he brushes away the tears with his thumbs. He presses a soft kiss to her hair, rests their foreheads together. “Whatever we had between us changed, and it felt… _right_. Okay? I didn’t even hesitate to ask you to move in with me. I knew Ryder was an enormous part of your life, that he would always come first, but that didn’t change how I felt.

“Then you told me you couldn’t move in because you’d gotten custody of him, and it hurt. A lot. I understood why you were saying no, but it still hurt. I didn’t mind that you and Ryder came as a package. I wanted you in my life, so I wanted _him_ in my life. You love him, so I love him. Granted, he didn’t make it very hard, he’s too perfect to not love him. He’s important to me, just like he’s important to you. So yeah, you might not think it’s fair on me, or that I didn’t sign up for this, but Em? The second I realised that casual wasn’t working for me, I signed up for whatever came after that.

“I love you, and I love Ryder, and I love that I have both of you.”

She opens her eyes to stare up at him, the deep blue of his eyes and the softness they hold. He tilts her head up, kisses her gently, and the last of her panic fades away. He pulls her against his chest, his chin on top of her head.

“I don’t expect you to say it back, not if you aren’t ready. Just… don’t try to make decisions for me, that’s all I ask.”

Emilie nods, and her tears come faster for an entirely different reason. She melts into the warmth and safety of his arms, nearly falling to her knees when he repeats the three words she herself has been trying to say for the last four months. She breathes in the scent of the warm summer night, the earth, the sweet edge to his spiced cologne. Her emotions, all mixed-up as they are, have drained her. She is utterly exhausted and wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep for years.

Somehow, Niall understands. He leads her across the yard, sidestepping the pool completely, and into the house. They don’t stop on their trek to the bedroom, though she does call out a goodnight to the other two men in the living room on the way.

Emilie curls up under the duvet next to Ryder, her heart feeling at peace for the first time in such a long time. Niall runs a hand over the sleeping child’s hair then leans down to press a kiss to Emilie’s cheek. She reaches up with one trembling hand, strokes a finger along his cheekbone.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and his lips twitch before he’s kissing away her apology. “And I, I…”

Niall shakes his head with another sweet smile. “I know, darling. Take your time.”

The weight of their conversation hangs in the back of Emilie’s mind, but she isn’t as scared now. She knows there is so much promise for the future if she lets it. Niall leaves her with a quiet _I love you, petal_, pulling the door closed behind him.

The only illumination comes from the nightlight that Niall transferred from Ryder’s room to theirs; animated puppies smile eerily from the ceiling, and Emilie melts into the mattress and stares through the dimness at Ryder. He’s sleeping peacefully.

Pride and love bloom in her chest, and she ignores the dark voice in her head that says she can’t do this. She _has_ to. She can’t let Ryder down like his mother has so many times before. Failure is not an option.

And having Niall by her side through all of this can only make it that much easier.


	44. forty-four.

The cup of iced coffee totters dangerously as Emilie struggles to unlock the door, and she drops her keys to grab onto the drink so it doesn’t spill everywhere. Ryder lets out a cheerful _uh-oh!_, but she ignores him in favour of holding her belongings steady as she crouches down. She can’t see past the books in her arm, but she manages to grab the ring of her keys and stands again.

Unfortunately, the act of getting herself upright causes her drink to tip too far to the side. Cold coffee and ice cubes splash against the concrete and her feet. Ryder squeals and giggles, stomping backwards, and Emilie bites back the annoyance that flares up. This isn’t his fault at all. It’s just another inconvenience in a long line of inconveniences, destined to make her days even worse than the ones before. The last three weeks without Niall have been a nightmare, and this is just the cherry on top.

She unlocks the door and shepherds Ryder into the house. Pushing him gently toward the living room, Emilie toes off her flats, kicks them to the side, and strips from her slacks right there in the entry hall. She makes sure that the child is sufficiently distracted enough with his books then runs upstairs.

Today has been awful. First, the coffeemaker had gone all glitchy, so there was no coffee. Then she was late to work because she couldn’t get her car to start. She’d had to have Annie come pick her up because Niall is out of state again and Mully never came home last night. _Then_ she had nearly been cornered by Lily’s father, only saved by a three-year-old who had wandered too far from her class.

And now she’s out of the only bit of caffeine she’s been able to have today, and she can’t find her favourite leggings. Sighing, Emilie grabs a pair of shorts from the drawer and tugs them on. It’s been at least three minutes since she left Ryder alone, and she rushes back down the stairs, stubbing her toe and cursing along the way.

“Oh, no. Oh, _no_.”

Ryder grins from where he’s sat on the floor, and Emilie’s throat tightens with frustration and tears as she stares at the thick, black lines of ink on his face and body. Thankfully, he hasn’t coloured on the floor or walls, just himself. She has no idea where he found a Sharpie, but find one, he did.

“Ryder Alexander, what the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

“I do art!” he announces cheerfully, dragging the marker along his forearm, and Emilie hurries across the room to take the Sharpie from him.

He pouts but doesn’t fuss, instead turning to his toys. Emilie searches for the cap, finds it just under the couch, and caps the marker. Her hands tremble as she carries the Sharpie to the kitchen, tosses it on the countertop. She collapses to the floor, burying her face in her hands.

“I can’t do this, holy shit, I can’t do this any more.”

Knowing she can’t settle into the freak-out right now, Emilie forces herself to draw in a steadying breath then goes back to the living room. There are only a few more hours before Ryder’s bedtime. She can get through that short amount of time. She can. She has to.

Even scrubbing his skin as hard as she dares with warm water and soap does nothing to budge the permanent ink he has scribbled on himself with. Ryder whines as pink blooms across his body, and Emilie winces at the sound. She hadn’t meant to hurt him. She drops the shower-sponge into the tub, sits back on her heels. Apologising quietly to the toddler, Emilie leans against the wall and watches him play with the rubber duckies, boats, and dinosaurs.

Her phone vibrates along the counter, and she debates ignoring it. The only reason why she reaches for the device is because she remembers it’s Thursday and Niall is meant to call tonight. His smile dims once the video-chat connects, and Emilie swallows back the tears that threaten to spill over.

“What’s happened?” he asks quietly, frowning when she shakes her head. “Love?”

“I... I can’t talk about it right now.”

“But maybe later?”

She nods shakily and blows out a breath. “Maybe. Wanna see a small bit of what my day has been like?”

“Of course.”

Emilie switches the camera to the back one, angling her phone so Niall can see Ryder’s marker-covered arms and face. The child remains uninterested in the conversation as he splashes about, but Niall’s jaw drops, a hand coming up to cover his mouth - to hide his smile, no doubt.

“Oh, no.”

“My thoughts exactly. I left him alone for, like, two minutes and... that happened.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Yes, because that smile tells me you’re sympathetic to the situation.” She manages a somewhat-real grin to take the sting out of her words. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Only another couple of days then I’ll be home.”

“Good. So how was _your_ day?”

Emilie listens as he talks about the writing process, the people he’s working with, the golf he’s managed to squeeze into his busy schedule. She loves that he’s happy, loves that he’s doing what he wants, but something small and jagged cuts through her at how at ease he seems. She doesn’t want to put a name to it, though she knows that it is jealousy. She’s envious that he gets the chance to be away from home, from the responsibilities of raising a child.

It isn’t his fault, and Emilie is well aware of that. He may be doing what he’s passionate about - and she will never, ever begrudge him for that - but it’s his job. He can’t just... not do it. Emilie made the decision to go to college and become Ryder’s second mother. It wasn’t really forced onto her. Sure, Ry would be in the foster system long before now, but she could’ve walked away and chosen differently. She didn’t, so now she’s left to deal with the consequences of that decision.

Niall has to hang up a few minutes later, citing some scheduling thing, but promises to call back at bedtime so he can say goodnight to Ryder. And so Emilie can fill him in on her day. She stares at her phone screen for a long moment then locks the device, setting it back on the counter. Ryder scoots away from her when she reaches for him.

“I no go! I no go!”

“Ryder, please, don’t do this right now, okay? Let’s get out of the tub and go have dinner.”

“I no go,” he shouts again as he slams his hands into the water. “No, no, no, no -

“That’s enough!”

He stares up at her with wide eyes and quivering chin. Emilie claps a hand over her mouth, stomach churning, and guilt swims to the surface, acidic and hot and agonising. Her heart aches to turn back time and never yell at the innocent child. However, the damage is done.

Ryder remains completely silent as he climbs clumsily to his feet. Emilie’s eyes burn and a sob bubbles up when the toddler flinches as she nears. She holds him as close to her as she possibly can, not caring that she is getting soaked. He trembles in her arms, and Emilie will never forgive herself for this.

“Oh, Ry, I’m... I’m so sorry. Auntie Em is so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. You - you didn’t deserve it. God, I’m so sorry.”

Ryder doesn’t say anything in response, but she didn’t expect him to. She certainly wouldn’t reply if someone yelled at her. She continues to murmur out apologies while she wraps him in a towel, carries him to his bedroom, and dresses him. Throughout it all, he stays quiet, fingers picking at the hem of his clothing, and he immediately goes to his bed.

Emilie swallows down the bile as he climbs up onto the mattress and clutches Lionel the Lion tightly to his chest. Her heart breaks further when she realises he’s avoiding her gaze - the same thing he always did to Danielle. _I’m Danielle. I’m no better than his mother_. She barely manages to make it to the toilet before her stomach revolts.

Dinner is a quiet thing. Ryder eats what he’s given without complaint, and Emilie pushes her food around her plate without taking a bite. How can she possibly tolerate food right now? She’s just proved to him that the one person he always relied on has become exactly like the one who abandoned him. She has failed him.

“Wanna sleep in bed with me tonight?” she whispers as she carries him up the stairs, and the nausea abates slightly at his hesitant nod. “Okay, baby, let’s get you tucked in for Ni-Ni’s call.”

Ryder doesn’t say much to Niall, and Emilie sees how worried her boyfriend is, even through the video. Eventually, Niall gives up trying to get conversation from the toddler, sighing heavily. Emilie kisses Ryder’s hair and promises to be right back; he curls up in the centre of the bed, still clinging to Lionel, and watches the cartoons on the television.

“Love, what happened?”

Emilie sits on the floor just inside Ryder’s bedroom and stops trying to hold back the tears. Her voice is thick, crackling and shaking, as she tells Niall everything - including having shouted at a literal child. He doesn’t interrupt her during her meltdown, and Emilie is so thankful for that. She doesn’t think she could be this truthful if he spoke right now. He just lets her cry.

“I’m sorry I can’t be there right now,” he murmurs after she’s finally fallen silent, only soft hiccups to break the silence. “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been on you.”

“It’s - it’s fine. Whatever. I chose to accept guardianship instead of letting him go to the foster system.”

“It doesn’t mean you have to pretend you’re not struggling, Em.”

“I don’t get to complain about it. This was my decision.”

“Emilie…”

“I really don’t wanna talk about this any more. Tell me something happy.”

Niall blows out a breath, scrubs at his jaw with a hand, then smiles slightly. “Would me reminding you I love you be considered something happy?”

Emilie smiles despite herself, but before she can say anything, a tiny voice calls her name. She exhales sharply, closing her eyes, and pushes the darkness back. Her heart beats painfully in her chest, though she ignores the way it steals her breath.

“I better go. Gonna cuddle Ry until I no longer feel like yeeting myself into the void for yelling at him. Um, Niall?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I, uh... thank you.”

Something flickers across his expression, but it’s gone too quickly for her to interpret it. He just nods and lets her hang up. _I love you, too_. It’s too late for that, though, so Emilie pushes herself to her feet and makes her way back to her bedroom. Ryder waits until she’s changed into pyjamas and crawled into bed, then he scoots closer.

“Love you rainbow,” he whispers, burying his face into her side, and Emilie can’t stop the tears.

“I love you more than the rainbow, sweetheart,” she murmurs as she wraps her arms around him, holds him tightly until he’s asleep. Even then, she doesn’t let go.


	45. forty-five.

Emilie sighs, double-checks the time, then goes back to her classwork. She has unfortunately let it slip a lot over the last month, and now she’s paying the price. It’s important that she gets it done, but she can’t focus on the work in front of her: Niall is meant to be home within the next couple of hours.

It’s been two days since she yelled at Ryder, and the guilt has yet to abate. She hasn’t brought it up with Niall, not again - she can hardly stand the memory of having raised her voice toward the toddler, let alone talking to her boyfriend about it. Ryder hasn’t acted as if he remembers, though. He has been the same cheery, laughing, smiling, giggly, loving child that she’s loved for two years. His happy disposition only exacerbates her remorse for the outburst. He didn’t deserve it.

“We’re home!”

Emilie sighs then plasters a smile onto her face as she turns away from her laptop. Mully sets Ryder on his feet, and she opens her arms just in time for the toddler to launch himself at her. Kissing his cheek until he squeals, Emilie lets herself settle into the peacefulness that comes whenever he’s around.

“Oh, there’s my favourite little man. How was daycare today? Did you have fun?”

“Yes! I eat play’oh.”

“You… you ate PlayDough?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It icky.”

“Yes, honey, it’s icky. Now why don’t you go play for a bit? Auntie Emilie is almost done with her homework, then I’ll be able to play with you before dinner, okay?”

Mully kisses Emilie’s hair as he passes, Ryder’s jabbering fading on his way further into the living room. Emilie turns back to her schoolwork and tries to focus. She really does. But her concentration is shot - has been since she woke up. The hours aren’t moving fast enough, and not having Ryder around to distract her has only made it all seem that much slower. Emilie hadn’t wanted to disrupt his routine, so she took him to daycare and tried to pick up a shift while there. Desiree had vetoed it before Emilie could finish asking.

It left her at home alone, only assignments and her thoughts to keep her company. Mully has been spending more time out of the house lately; between 40 Love and his girlfriend, Emilie is lucky if she sees him once in a three-day period. He has at least texted her to make sure she’s been all right with him gone, though, which was nice. It makes her feel like he gives a damn about her and Ryder, even though he certainly doesn’t have to.

“An’ Em, I food?”

Emilie glances at the clock in the corner of her laptop screen - somehow, the last two hours have flown by, and she has little to show for it. The assignment is still only half-done. She blows out a breath and closes her computer, pushing it to the centre of the table. Ryder reaches up for her, smiles brightly when she picks him up without question.

“Of course, sweetie. What sounds good for dinner?”

“I no know.”

“You don’t know? Well, drats it all to heck. Should we go ask Mister Sean?”

“I ask!”

Emilie giggles and stands, swaying carefully from side to side as she carries Ryder up the stairs. He slaps his palm against Mully’s bedroom door, shouting for “Mis’er Sean” until Mully opens the door. Then... Ryder goes shy. Emilie stifles her laughter as she takes over posing the question of what dinner should be.

“That stir-fry you and Niall made together way back before you started dating. He’s tried making it once or twice but always said it wasn’t as good as yours.”

Emilie’s jaw drops slightly; Niall remembered that? Shaking her head to clear the surprise, she promises it’s a done deal then hesitates. “Can you watch little man while I cook?”

“Absolutely.”

Emilie presses a kiss to Ryder’s cheek, passes him over, and heads back to the kitchen. Her thoughts shift, formless and tangential, over the last year of her life. She still sometimes wakes up wondering if it’s all been a dream; it’s been thirteen months since Niall entered her life like a hurricane, upending everything she thought she knew, and Emilie has no regrets about opening her heart to him. She just wishes that the dynamic between them wasn’t at risk of changing. Again.

“I’m finally back! And something smells amazing.”

Emilie doesn’t bother turning from the stove at Niall’s voice, but there is no stopping the smile that twists at her lips. Ryder shrieks from upstairs, his footsteps slapping against the floor, then Mully is laughing as the toddler whines - evidently stopped by the gate that blocks his path.

“What’s for dinner, petal?”

“Stir-fry. Mully’s choice.”

“I’ve missed you.”

The kiss he presses to her cheek is quick, barely a touch of his lips, then he’s off. Emilie turns to watch him scoop Ryder up into his arms as the toddler runs into the room, identical brilliant smiles splitting their faces, and she brushes aside the tiny, pitiful voice in her head that asks where her exuberant greeting is. She’s cooking. Of course Niall won’t want to interrupt that.

Mully catches her eye, cocks his head. She forces a smile in response - she’s fine, she’s happy Niall is home, and she should probably focus on taking the stir-fry off the heat before it burns. The heaviness in her chest remains, no matter how hard she tries to ignore it. It’s just because of the three weeks apart, she thinks, this is only a small hiccup. Emilie isn’t sure she believes herself. Not after the call last night.

It was normal, easygoing and full of eagerness for Niall’s arrival home. She had spent the hour filled with the same sense of love and longing that she felt back in the beginning, but then they had hung up. It wasn’t until almost an hour after she’d gone to bed, when she was lying wide-awake with a toddler’s feet pressed into her spine, that she realised Niall hadn’t said “I love you.” Instead, it had come in a text message in the middle of the night, like an afterthought.

Sighing, Emilie turns toward the cupboard to grab plates. Mully beats her to it, the smile on his face too knowing, and she swallows against the tightness in her throat. The pair works in silence to dole out portions, set the table, and Emilie wants nothing more than to admit that there’s something wrong. It’s also the last thing she could stand to do.

The confession would only serve to disrupt the relative stability of her life - her relationship.

“Why have you not made this before?” Mully asks before shovelling another bite into his mouth, and Emilie squirms uncomfortably in her chair. “This is amazing, and I’m angry that you’ve never made this for me.”

“It’s just a stir-fry, nothing special.”

Mully shakes his head, points his fork at Niall. “You’re right. Yours was complete shite compared to this.”

“I told you!” Niall laughs. “Ry, don’t play with your food, bud. Auntie Emilie worked hard to make it, so we should eat it, right?”

“So what are you two doing for your anniversary next month?”

Silence reigns at the table in the wake of Mully’s question, and Emilie slowly meets Niall’s gaze. She forgot that the one-year mark for their relationship was in six short weeks. Judging by her boyfriend’s expression, so did he. She takes a drink of her wine in order to hide her discomfort. How could she have forgotten? How could _he_?

Mully glances between them, frowning, but Emilie ducks her head so she doesn’t have to see the judgement that’s surely on his face. Her appetite fades into nothing, replaced by a heavy knot of something unidentifiable. Shame washes down her spine, hot and thick as it spreads. Clearing her throat quietly, she pushes herself to her feet and gathers up her dishes. She’s no longer hungry, and she needs something to do that isn’t dwelling on the fact that neither she nor Niall found it important enough to remember the nearness of their anniversary.

As much as she loves her mom and dad, Emilie never thought she’d follow in their footsteps. She could not have anticipated, not once, that her relationship would go much the same as the marriage between Rose and Jackson. It wasn’t until she was a teenager and asking questions that they told her the reasons for their divorce - they didn’t spend enough time with each other, they didn’t find the same things important, they didn’t work hard enough to keep their love alive until eventually, they sat down one night and decided to end their marriage.

And now look where she is with Niall. Only a year together, and already they’re growing apart.

Emilie’s mind races for the rest of the evening. Thankfully, Mully doesn’t try to revisit the subject, but she can’t stop thinking about it. Even as she watches Niall playing with Ryder, that damned voice in her head keeps asking if she’s prepared for the inevitable end. She is left alone to her thoughts, Niall none the wiser about the storm brewing inside of her, and she hates it. Emilie wants - _needs_ \- him to interrupt her from this infinite loop of doubts and crushed dreams. He doesn’t, though.

Niall leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as he watches Ryder sleep. Emilie loops her arms around his waist, resting her forehead against his shoulder, and breathes in his familiar scent, the one that’s never failed to ease her troubled mind. Until tonight.

“He’s peaceful like this, isn’t he?” she whispers, and Niall huffs out quiet chuckle. “You coming to bed?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

She closes her eyes to the sharp twinge in her chest but pulls away. Niall doesn’t move, doesn’t look back at her, as her hands fall from his side. Emilie stares at his back for a long minute then turns, makes her way on silent footsteps to their bedroom.

She falls asleep before he comes to bed.


	46. forty-six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happiest of birthdays to the wonderful Phoenixx90!! you've been an immeasurable help in motivating me to continue writing, and i hope today is as amazingly beautiful as you are!!!! 🖤🖤

Emilie stirs to consciousness, groaning at the soft light that stretches toward her face. An emptiness presses against her back, relentless in its absence of her boyfriend. She rolls over to face the cold stretch of mattress, and something in her chest gives a harsh tug at the sight. A small part of her expected it, especially after having fallen asleep alone last night, but most of her had hoped that he’d be here when she woke up.

Pushing back the blankets, Emilie rolls out of bed and shivers in the cool air of the morning. Her brows furrow when she realises all she can hear is silence. Ryder isn’t babbling away to his stuffed animals in his room or downstairs holding “conversations” with Mully or Niall. She rubs her hands along her arms as she makes her way to his bedroom.

Finding the room empty fills Emilie with a twisted sense of deja vu. She turns away from the unmade bed and strains to hear something, anything, that will tell her where the child is. Thankfully, it’s easy enough to follow the soft notes that filter through the air, the quiet voice humming along.

Ryder is curled up on Niall’s lap, blue eyes watching as Niall’s hands move across the keys. Emilie breathes a sigh of relief and crosses the room to sit next to her boyfriend at the piano. He doesn’t stop playing even as he leans over to kiss her, and her heart soars at the sweet smile he gives her. This feels right, more like it should be. It almost makes her forget the reality of the situation.

“Morning, favourite boys of mine. How long have you two been awake?”

Niall shrugs, presses his lips to Ryder’s hair. “Not too long. Sorry if we woke you.”

“You didn’t.” _The lack of you did_, but Emilie doesn’t voice that thought. “What are you playing?”

“Something I might use for the album.”

“It’s beautiful.”

And it is. The melody drips with poignancy, saturated with a sense of loss and heartbreak. Emilie leans into Niall’s side and closes her eyes. She wants to ask why, why this particular tune, what is he thinking? She can’t find the words, though. Not without potentially making him doubt himself.

“I’ve been thinking,” he murmurs after a moment, fingers stilling on the keys, then he pulls his hands back. “Hey, Ry, why don’t you go read your books for a minute? Auntie Emilie and I need to talk.”

Ryder huddles closer, eyes falling shut as he buries his face into the front of Niall’s T-shirt. “I stay, t’anks.”

Emilie stifles a giggle as Niall’s expression turns exasperated. When he turns betrayed eyes on her, all she can do is shrug. Niall reluctantly smiles, hefts Ryder into his arms, and they cross the room to the couch. She reaches for Ryder, but the child only shakes his head and clings more tightly to Niall.

“He’s missed you.”

“I’ve missed him, too.”

_And me?_ “So you were thinking,” she reminds him in lieu of letting out everything she’s holding back.

“Yeah. Mully is right. Our anniversary is next month. We should do something.”

“We should.”

“I lost track of time.”

“What do you mean?”

Niall sighs but doesn’t meet her eye. “I knew it was coming up, but I didn’t realise it was so close.”

“Niall, it’s fine. You’re not the only one who’s dropped the ball. Besides, it would be different if you forgot on the actual day. It’s six weeks from now, so we have time.”

“I just... I don’t want you thinking our relationship isn’t important to me. Because it is. _You_ are important to me. I love you, and I don’t want you to doubt that.”

“I don’t.” She resists the urge to roll his eyes when he does nothing more than give her a disbelieving look. “So what do you want to do for our anniversary?”

“Well, as you said, we have six weeks to figure that out.”

_Fantastic._ Emilie nods slowly and pulls her knees up to her chest. Ryder squirms a few seconds later, pushes away from Niall, and she watches the toddler as he digs through the toy-box. He comes up with a fistful of Hot Wheels cars, settling down to push them across the floor. A traitorous voice in her head reminds her she’s not the only one that is going to get hurt, and guilt twists hotly in her chest.

If this doesn’t work out, Ryder is going to be the one to pay the price. He’ll be losing yet another person in his short life. And it will be all Emilie’s fault.

**[-_-_-_-]**

Emilie stares across the table at Niall, watching him as he skims over the menu. She hadn’t been sure they would be able to do this tonight - not with how much time he’s been spending out of the house, not with the hectic schedule he has tried to stick to. Emilie hates how deeply she expected him to cancel the date, no matter that it’s their anniversary.

But he hadn’t. Niall had come home an hour later than he promised, but Emilie is just thankful he didn’t forget. Or tell her he couldn’t make it. They need this opportunity to be out of the house, away from Ryder and the responsibilities of raising a child, on their own and letting themselves be in love.

This last month has been a struggle. Work is fine - it’s really hard to mess up a position at a daycare, when one’s only responsibilities are making sure the children are still alive when their parents pick them up. Her friendships with her colleagues have become steadier. Josh occasionally gives her rides to and from Tiny Tots, but more often than not, Emilie risks Lily’s father knowing she’s at work. Even that hasn’t been awful, the man seeming to have gotten the hint and staying to himself.

The hardest part has been in her personal relationship.

The disconnect has only grown harder for Emilie to ignore, and it’s begun to take its toll on her. Her sleep schedule is basically nonexistent; even with the times she’s fallen asleep without him, it’s still almost impossible to do. She spends so many hours of the night trying to figure out where things have gone so awry, and she’s no closer to an answer.

Emilie wants to fix this - everything that isn’t perfect - but she hasn’t the faintest idea where to start. Louis’s words from so long ago echo constantly in her mind: Niall has no chance of knowing that something is wrong if Emilie doesn’t tell him. Louis was right then, she knew it as soon as he said it, and it’s no less accurate now.

She wishes she had an answer for the question, the one that asks how one tells the person they are in love with that they’re unhappy? _Without_ making their partner feel guilty for whatever is causing the problem. It’s completely unfair to Niall, and broaching the subject just doesn’t seem appropriate. Especially not tonight.

So Emilie smiles up at the woman filling her wine glass and swallows down her melancholy with a mouthful of Pinot.

“How’s the music going?” she asks quietly, hesitantly, and Niall looks away from the menu.

The candlelight flickers across his face, and Emilie watches the distracted glaze fade from his eyes. It doesn’t disappear completely, just enough that she knows he has at least a fraction of his attention. He sips at his wine and nods slowly.

“It’s going pretty well. We’ve a few great songs done so far, but… the album is missing something, I think. So we’ve been trying to figure it out.”

“I’m excited to hear the album.”

“I’m excited to finish it.” His face lights up, and he folds his arms on the table. Leaning forward, his eyes meet hers. “I’m pretty sure this is definitely some of my best work.”

“So tell me about it, then. I mean, I know you’ve told me that _Flicker_ had kind of a theme through it. What about this one?”

“It does, yeah. Haven’t quite gotten it… completely sorted yet, but as soon as I can explain it properly, I’ll let you know.”

His gaze drops to the tabletop, fingertips tapping against wood. Emilie slumps against the disappointment. Now that he’s ended that topic, Niall doesn’t look nearly as engaged in any possible conversation. She sighs and reaches for her glass. _Should have just stayed home_, she tells herself, wincing when the thought crosses her mind. It isn’t an incorrect one, but it’s definitely something she shouldn’t be thinking while on a date to celebrate their anniversary.

Monica 🖤  
  
**Monica:** Hey, Bean. I love you and all, which is why I'm bothering you on your anniversary to ask if everything is okay.   
  
**Emilie:** Why aren't you in bed, young lady? It's almost one there.   
  
**Monica:** Don't change the topic  
**Monica:** Is everything okay??   
  
**Emilie:** Yeah, everything is fine. Why?  


Monica’s response is a link, and Emilie makes sure Niall is still sound asleep next to her before tapping on it. Her heart sinks when the webpage loads, photographs filling the post. They’re grainy, dark, but there’s no mistaking that they were taken a few hours ago when she and Niall were having dinner.

The poster spends seven lengthy paragraphs pointing out how neither Emilie or Niall seem to be speaking to each other much even as they sit across from each other. Emilie sits up, curling in on herself, as she reads each bit of “evidence” proving the nearing end of the relationship.

> _they haven’t even been seen in public together for so long, i thought they’d broken up ages ago! i guess what i'm trying to say is with that info and one look at these pics and you can tell that this relationship? whatever it actually is? totally not gonna last. and niall is all the better for it (seriously, who else thought this girl was using him, especially since her kiddo needs a daddy and why not one of the rich and famous???)_

Emilie exits out of her browser, locks her phone, and tosses the device onto the nightstand. She can’t breathe through the tears. Was it really that obvious that she’s not nearly as happy as she was only a couple short months ago? And do people honestly think that she’s using Niall so that Ryder has a father figure? It’s so completely false, and it hurts to know that they could operate under that assumption. No matter what anyone thinks, she _loves_ Niall for who he is as a person, not for anything else.

Emilie stares at Niall through the dark, barely touched by the gentle glow of the nightlight across the room. Her entire being aches, and she doesn’t stop to think about what she’s doing. She slides further down into the blankets, curls up against him, and closes her eyes as the tears keep coming.


	47. forty-seven.

_I’m fine._

_Nothing is wrong. _

_I promise I’d tell you if something was bothering me._

Over the last few weeks, Emilie has said so many variations of “I’m fine” that she honestly has lost count. It hasn’t helped that every time she’s looked at Niall’s Twitter or Instagram, people have been commenting relentlessly about the photographs taken on their anniversary, begging for some explanation or confirmation that he’s unhappy and will be breaking up with Emilie. She knows, she _knows_, she shouldn’t be doing this to herself, but she can’t stop. She has to know if he’s going to slip up, if he’s going to hint at the comments being true, if she’s going to find out about their break-up through a damned social media post.

Emilie has avoided replying to anything that Monica or Derek send in texts regarding Niall. She is well-aware that her refusal to be upfront is causing them to worry more about her, but the thought of telling them the truth sends ice through her veins. She can’t admit it. So she lies to them, tells them everything is fantastic, or changes the subject whenever they ask after Niall. It’s as effective as she could hope for - which is to say, her best friends aren’t convinced, but they do stop bringing him up.

Her mother isn’t nearly as easily dissuaded from the subject. The second she finds something off in Emilie’s voice on the calls, Rose is pressing for more information. Emilie hates lying, especially to her mother, though she still tries. Thankfully, Jackson rarely calls. He finds text conversations to be easier, claiming that there’s no pressure or expectations for an immediate response. So Emilie is relatively unconsumed by the guilt at fibbing whenever he enquires about her life.

It isn’t until the beginning of August that Emilie feels everything crumbling further around her.

Checking the time on her phone for the fifth time in the last hour, Emilie blows out a sharp breath. There are still no new notifications, no texts apologising. No _I’m on my way_s. Nothing. She stuffs the device into her back pocket and blinks rapidly to clear away the tears that are forming. She isn’t surprised, and that surprises her. She hadn’t realised she became so accustomed to the radio silence.

She steps out of the cool building, sweat beading along her hairline before slipping down her forehead. Ryder whines at the heat, stomps his feet as he follows after Emilie. The air is heavy with a moisture that warns of an impending storm; she gently pushes the toddler back into the shade provided by the yellow-striped awning, but there is no escape from the oppressive heat. The sight of his ruddy cheeks is enough to break Emilie’s heart, and she wishes, not for the first time, that she’d driven herself to work today.

Coughing slightly to dislodge the lump in her throat, Emilie scoops him up into her arms and turns to go back inside. They can wait in the lobby. She’s just reached for the handle when the door swings open, and Emilie twitches in surprise then steps out of the way.

“Bye, Miss Emilie! Bye, Ryder!”

Emilie’s gaze darts to the small child waving at her. “Oh! Have a wonderful night, Lily. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Do you need a lift home?”

And if Lily’s father was anyone other than who he is, Emilie would have nearly collapsed to her knees in gratitude. As it is, though, she hefts Ryder further into her arms and turns instinctively to keep her body between him and the man who has shockingly kept his distance over the last few months. Footsteps follow her down the pavement as she walks away. Her heart leaps into her throat.

“No, thanks,” she calls back over her shoulder, “we’re fine. My, um, my husband is just running a bit late.”

“Are you sure? We really don’t mind.”

_Of course you don’t_. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The man is so close, and Emilie forces her fingers to relax before her nails can do damage to Ryder’s skin. She draws in a breath that’s meant to be steadying, though it has no effect. Her pulse roars in her ears, body racked with minute trembles, and she swallows against the tightness in her throat. His mouth opens, but another voice comes from behind him, cutting him off with efficiency.

“There you are.”

A tear mingles with the sweat on her face as Josh nears. His stormy blue eyes scan over the scene in front of him, and Emilie hopes like Hell that he registers her fear. His eyes dart to her face, then he reaches for Ryder. The child, used to Josh’s presence after daily interactions for so long, goes easily enough without complaint. Emilie leans heavily into Josh’s side when his arm loops around her shoulders.

“Lemme guess. You forgot we parked down there this morning?” he laughs, pointing to the other end of the car park.

It takes every ounce of willpower Emilie possesses not to burst into tears right then, and still, it’s only because of his hold that she remains on her feet even as relief drowns her. She nods with a watery, nervous giggle as Josh presses a kiss to her damp hair. He whispers a _keep going_ against her skin, and she resists the urge to run away.

“Yeah, I’m so used to being the one driving. You got the keys?”

“Yep. Let’s go, babe. Have a good night, sir.”

Emilie follows Josh on weak knees to his car, fears that Lily’s father won’t let it go this easily. Thankfully, the car is pulling out onto the street a moment later. She blows out a breath and drops to sit on the curb while Josh distracts Ryder. The toddler doesn’t need to see his aunt falling apart, and Emilie is thankful that her friend understands that. Once she has herself under control again, she wipes her face with the hem of her blouse.

“Thanks. Seriously, I can’t thank you enough.”

Josh frowns and sits next to her, Ryder perched comfortably on his knee. “No problem. You looked very uncomfortable. But… I thought you’d already gone.”

“Yeah, my ride, uh, hasn’t shown up yet.”

“Em, this might be cruel, it may be pouring salt into the wound, but it’s been almost an hour. I don’t, I don’t think your ride is coming.”

“Neither do I,” she whispers to her knees after a few seconds, his words echoing in her brain. Her chest aches with the confession.

“C’mon, let’s get you two home. It’s too damn hot to sit out here all day.”

As he buckles Ryder into the car-seat, Emilie holds tightly to herself and tries to smother the pain that eats away at her soul. Josh glances back at over his shoulder, evidently misreading the expression on her face, and explains that he sometimes has to be chauffeur to his sister and niece. It’s an unexpected statement, irrelevant to anything that matters in her life. Her eyes drift from his face to the car-seat, and she nods slowly as she remembers he doesn’t have children of his own.

Her heart aches at the hazy memory of seeing a car-seat in the back of Mully’s car all those months ago.

The drive to house is quiet except for Ryder babbling in the back. Josh sends Emilie inquisitive looks from the corner of his eye a few times, but he doesn’t say anything. And she doesn’t know what she would say to his questions, anyway. So she rests her head against the window and concentrates on trying to shove everything into the back of her mind. Thoughts swirl around in her brain, unrelenting and agonising and disjointed.

“Hey, Em?”

Emilie looks away from the house to her friend. His lips quirk upwards into a smile that falls flat, and he reaches for her hand. She stares down at her lap when the concern on his face is too much to bear. When it reminds her that this weight isn’t meant for anyone else’s shoulders, and it’s not right for her to expect them to help.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you know you can talk to me, right?”

Emilie coughs a delirious laugh. “Trust me, if I knew, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Okay. Well, if you ever need anything, please tell me. No judgement.”

“Thanks, Josh. I-I appreciate it.”

Josh waits until Emilie has carried Ryder through the gate. He honks once then he’s gone, car disappearing from view. She stares up at the home that’s become nothing more than a house, sighs heavily. _He better have a damn good reason_, she thinks with a surprising bitterness. Kissing Ryder’s temple, Emilie inhales slowly then makes her way to the door.

The irritation explodes into full-blown rage when she steps inside only to hear Lewis’s voice coming from the living room. Tinny and echoing slightly, it’s the last thing she wants to hear right now. She sets Ryder on his feet and helps him pull off his shoes before slipping out of her own flats. His hand is hot, sweaty, as he wraps his fingers around her pinkie. He smiles up at her, an innocent face made more precious by the love and trust found there.

Niall is sat on the couch, laughing at whatever Lewis has said on the FaceTime call, and Emilie swallows down the venom. The smile he sends her way does nothing to quell her anger. She turns away from him without a word, helps Ryder up the stairs. Her hands tremble violently as she turns on the tap in the tub, letting the basin fill with lukewarm water while she strips the toddler from his sweat-soaked clothes.

Her thoughts burst into a frenzy, and she can’t catch hold of any of them beyond the hurt and betrayal of having been forgotten. Niall had found a laugh with his friend more important than remembering to pick up his girlfriend and the kid he claims to love. He left them waiting in the late-afternoon heat without the decency of apologising when he saw them.

Emilie doesn’t realise she has begun sobbing until Ryder stops splashing in the water, staring up at her with wide eyes.

“An’ Em ‘kay?”

“Auntie Emilie is okay, baby,” she croaks out, and the crack in her voice is nothing compared to the cracks in her heart.

Once Ryder is bathed and less pink-cheeked, she wraps him in a towel and holds him tightly to her chest. He rests his head against her shoulder, and she carries him to his bedroom. He stands, shivering and quiet, next to his bed and watches Emilie grab a pair of footie pyjamas from his drawer. She dresses him quickly then stares at him. At the epitome of the perfection he’s brought to her life just by existing.

“I love you so much, Ryder Alexander, you hear me?” She kisses his forehead, closing her eyes against even more tears. “You’re my everything.”

Niall is off the call by the time Emilie feels calm enough to go downstairs twenty minutes later. She avoids looking at her boyfriend as she leaves Ryder by his toy-bin, her hand smoothing down his damp hair. Unfortunately, Niall is just as oblivious as when she came home, and he follows her into the kitchen.

“How was your day, petal?”

“Fine.”

“Sorry I didn’t ask when you came in.”

“It’s fine.” _Obviously I know where I stand._

Emilie grabs the lettuce from the fridge and a tomato from the clump in the bowl on the counter; Niall chatters on while she dices up produce for a salad, and she lets the sound of his voice fade under the buzzing in her ears. Her jaw aches with how hard she’s gritting her teeth. She knows if she says anything right now, it will be the end of them.

She isn’t sure any more if that would be the end of the world.

“So why are you home so late?”

She tastes blood on her tongue, keeping her eyes on the knife in her hand. “Because I had to wait for Josh to finish up so he could give us a lift home.”

“Oh.” Niall steals a piece of lettuce from the cutting board, popping it into his mouth, then reaches for another. “That was nice of him.”

“Yeah? Well, he shouldn’t have fucking had to.”

A hot tendril of sick, warped pleasure winds through her when Niall rears back. His mouth falls open, his eyes are wide, but she can’t enjoy the gob-smacked expression on his face for long. She knows he’s going to ask questions now: The lack of response from her is one thing, but cursing when Ryder is within earshot is new. An unheard-of thing. Slamming the knife onto the cutting board, Emilie clenches her hands into fists on the countertop, drags in breath after unsteady breath.

“Em, what the Hell? What’s wrong?”

“An’ Em?”

Emilie turns to see Ryder at the edge of the living room. Tears fill his big, blue eyes before spilling over, and acrid guilt mingles with the anger to burn a fiery path along her nerves. She spares a second to wipe her hands on a dishtowel then rushes to the child’s side. He buries his face into her neck, his little body shaking as he cries, and Emilie swallows thickly and stands with him held tightly to her chest.

“We’re going to get dinner. Cook whatever you want.”

“Emilie, stop. Where - what the Hell happened?”

She doesn’t bothering answering Niall. Even when she nearly falls on her ass while trying to slip her flat onto her feet, she stays silent. Niall grabs her purse before she can, holding it out of range. She refuses to cave, though. Refuses to say a word.

“Emilie, please talk to me.”

Emilie reaches out and deftly plucks her wallet out of the bag. Everything about the situation is so wrong, but she can’t care about that right now. Grabbing her keys from the hook, Emilie steps outside and closes the door on the sight of her boyfriend, the hurt and confusion on his face, and the way cracks race through the foundation of their relationship as the latch slides into place.


	48. forty-eight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to get you in the ~_right_~ mindset for this and subsequent chapters, i've curated a playlist! it's found [here!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6x8YgVGLhXT6oB3wFVoGrb?si=u3u5dBqkQNKblSbStJTzFQ) \- you shouldn't need a spotify account to listen to it, but if you do, please let me know and i'll figure out how to fix it. without further ado, _enjoy_ 🖤
> 
> (and remember i really do love you and i'm sorry)

The house is empty when Emilie steps through the front door almost three hours later. Ryder snores in her ear, and the sound is calming, something peaceful in the middle of a raging storm. She carries the sleeping child up the stairs, carefully feeling with her toes each step of the way, then tucks him into his bed. He lets out a soft sigh and relaxes further into the blankets.

Once Lionel the Lion is in his hold, Ryder squeezes the stuffed animal tightly, still fast asleep. Emilie sits on the floor next to the bed, stares at the child who stole her heart two years ago. His upset about her outburst faded with the time that passed and the attention she showered him with while they were gone. Her own feelings toward it are as dark and murky as ever.

She had half-expected Niall to follow them out of the house. Or to send text after text asking for - no, _demanding_ \- answers. Neither of those things happened. Her phone stayed silent. She spent the hours away with Ryder, making sure he was happy and fed and calm again, and her heart broke further the longer she went without anything.

Tears slip from her eyes without permission, but she doesn’t wipe them from her cheeks. Alone in the dark is the best place for them, and why should she hide what she is feeling? She is so damned tired of doing it, of keeping every single negative thought and emotion locked away. “Out of sight, out of mind” has no relevance or truth, not in the grand scheme of things.

Pale moonlight spreads through the room, filling it with a hazy glow, and Emilie can’t help but think of how beautiful it would be if nothing was falling apart. How can Niall so easily say he loves her if he can just as easily hurt her like this? She wonders if he even notices, if he even cares, how much she’s been struggling to hold onto the hope that things will get better.

She pushes herself to her feet and crosses the room to the window. The milky light touches everything below, casts shadows that loom ever larger the longer she stares. The darkness outside echoes the one in her heart. She tugs the curtains closed as the jagged piece cuts her even deeper.

Emilie goes to bed alone. She doesn’t sleep, and the bed remains empty throughout the night. Her pillow catches the tears that she stopped trying to stem, reminding her of her uncertainty with each slide of wet against skin. The other half of the mattress is cold and vast, overwhelms her in its barrenness, and she loses grip of the final thread of hope.

The alarm goes off at its normal time, and Emilie stares at her phone as it vibrates on the nightstand. Her body is heavy, and she doesn’t want to move. Eventually, she presses the button to stop the buzzing and picks up the device. The screen is full of notifications, but none of them are from the one person she needs to hear from. Sighing, Emilie sends a text to Desiree, asking if her boss will have some time this morning to speak when Emilie comes in. It takes a few minutes, but then Des replies in the affirmative, followed by a “You okay?” Emilie doesn’t bother replying as she forces herself out of bed.

Niall’s hygiene products sit on the counter in the bathroom, mocking her with their presence. Gasping in a shaky breath, Emilie slams her hand against the switch, douses the room in darkness, and all but runs to one of the guest bathrooms. She tries - god, does she try - but there’s no stopping the sobs that break loose as she leans against the wall.

_She left a note in the kitchen, next to the grocery list. It said “You don’t even know who I am. You left me a long time ago. You don’t even know who I am, so what do you care if I go?_

Emilie reaches over and turns the stereo off. Patty Loveless falls silent, Pandora automatically pausing, and Emilie glances up into the rear-view. Ryder grins happily back in his own mirror, and she vows to make things right for him. For herself, too.

The chorus plays through her head all day. Gloria notices her distraction, but Emilie can’t bring herself to talk about it with the other woman. The only thing she can tell Gloria is that she’s going to be okay. Emilie knows it will hurt worse before it gets better, but a light has finally started shining at the end of the tunnel.

Mully pulls up in front of the house as Emilie is lifting Ryder out of the car after work. Something in the man’s eyes tells her that he knows not everything is okay. Emilie sidesteps the trap he lays when he mentions offhandedly that Niall went to 40 Love last night, though it’s a hollow victory. He’s surprised to hear that Niall never came home after his visit at the sports bar, hesitantly asks if she and Niall are fighting. It hurts Emilie that there’s little difficulty in playing it off as if they talked about it. He clearly doesn’t believe her, but it’s enough to prevent him from asking questions. So she convinces herself that she doesn’t care.

**[-_-_-_-]**

_She wrote, ‘I feel just like that painting, collectin’ dust on the wall. And every day you walk right by me, and don’t know I’m there at all. And I can’t think of one single reason why I should be hangin’ around.’ She signed it, ‘I hope that you’ll miss me’ and drove herself out of town. Maybe he’ll notice her now… _

The city melts from sight behind them, growing smaller with each mile that’s eaten up by the tires, and Emilie draws in a deep, rattling breath. Her fingers tighten around the steering wheel when a sob threatens to bubble out of her. She refuses to cry or give her emotions any bit of control. Not again. This was a decision borne of her emotions, but it is also one made with logic.

This is the best thing for them, for her and Ryder, and the pain will fade… eventually. Until then, she can only put on a brave face and pretend nothing is awry. That her heart isn’t shattered in pieces, left behind on the floor of the home she used to share with Niall. She has to fake happy smiles and dry eyes until they become reality. Whenever that is.

The drive is slow and torturous. Without someone here to share the burden, hours seem to pass with the ease of frozen molasses. The radio crackles with static as she drives through areas with weak signals. Scenery stretches out for miles around them, dry brush and flatlands and a monotonous sweep of beige and green. Her phone rings in its holder every so often, but Emilie never answers. Talking to Mully or Monica or Derek or anyone else will only cause her to rethink what she’s doing.

Ryder babbles in the backseat for minutes at a time, happily keeping his aunt company. Then he asks about his Ni-Ni, and Emilie is punched in the gut with the pain again. Her voice shakes every time she talks, and she worries that he might notice, might realise this isn’t just a quick drive to the park. She tells herself that Ryder is too young to understand nuances, but it doesn’t help her feel any less unsteady.

This isn’t what she wanted. Leaving Niall… it is the last thing she ever could have imagined herself doing. She hates that it has come to this. Emilie knows she isn’t innocent or blameless. She could’ve talked to him. She could have fought to keep the relationship alive. Hell, she _should_ have. But being shown over and over that she wasn’t important enough to fight for had worn down any strength she had left.

Bedtime is nearly impossible. Ryder whines for close to an hour about being in his car-seat still, so Emilie pulls off at the next exit and into the car park of a hotel that looks like one strong gust of wind would knock it over. It’s clean enough, though a musty odour lingers, and the lights flicker eerily as she tucks Ryder into the centre of the bed. He won’t be placated by her gentle voice and soft lullaby. Instead, he repeatedly demands to say goodnight to Niall. Emilie comes so close to caving but remembers that this is meant to be a clean cut.

So she resists the urge to call Niall. She puts her phone on silent and curls up around Ryder, singing song after song to him until he finally falls asleep. She, however, lies awake for much longer, watches the tremulous shadows that dance on the walls from the street-lamps outside filtering in through the curtains. The unfamiliar bed and the quiet give her permission to cry for the first time since she made the decision to leave.

“How did this all get so fucked up?” she whispers into the dark, but her only answer comes in the form of deafening silence.


	49. forty-nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **remember:** there's a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6x8YgVGLhXT6oB3wFVoGrb?si=u3u5dBqkQNKblSbStJTzFQ) for these chapters! 🖤
> 
> lots of love, peace, rainbows, and sparkly unicorn farts!

Everything looks the same as the day she left. Empty, cold corridors. Heavy, metal doors and plaques bearing numbers painted in white. Overhead fluorescent lights that hum while in use. Blank white walls, dark hardwood flooring, pale yellow sunshade on the balcony doors. Nothing has changed in the months that she’s been away.

Emilie sets the suitcase by the door, staring around at the flat she never thought she’d see again. At least, not in this capacity. Their arrival carries with it the heaviness of a bittersweet blessing. One one hand, she and Ryder are no longer cooped up in the car with only each other and the scenery flying by to keep themselves company. On the other, being back here means she’s failed.

She couldn’t make Niall love her enough to not push her away. She couldn’t be important enough to him. She may have been complicit in the relationship ending with her lack of inaction, but the fact remains that Niall didn’t fight for her, either. She was forgettable, easily pushed to the side, and she lost a relationship she prayed to never lose.

Ryder toddles sleepily toward the couch, crawling up onto the cushions, and lets out a heavy sigh. It isn’t but two minutes later that he’s asleep. Emilie sighs and runs a hand through her hair. Deciding against moving him, she locks the door behind her and pads across the room to drape the throw blanket over him. She doesn’t bother to turn off the lights, just curls up around his tiny body. She falls asleep still trying to convince herself that all she needs his him.

Unfortunately, being back in Austin isn’t nearly as peaceful as Emilie might have hoped. It’s familiar, sure, and it will always be her home in some form. But the fact remains that she’s only back here because she couldn’t make a relationship work. It certainly doesn’t help that she’s made a playlist on her Pandora of all the saddest songs she could possibly think of, and that playlist is all she listens to over the following days.

The worst part is, Emilie can’t stop herself from Googling Niall. She continuously goes back to the blog that posted about them on their anniversary, tortures herself by reading the smug and venomous words that celebrate a lack of her in Niall’s life. Gossip sites have taken the story and run with it, but nothing cuts Emilie as much as what the blogger has to say.

> _about damn time our boy figured out she isn’t worth his time!!!_

> _as quickly as she came into his life, she’s gone just as fast! wonder if niall finally kicked her to the curb or if she realized that he wasn’t going to front her lifestyle and claim her kid as his. either way, ding dong, bitches, the witch is gone!_

> _niall has been way more active on twitter lately. guess we have ONE thing to thank this chick for - her absence means he can talk with us instead of wasting all his attention on her. she isn’t even that pretty. her kid is kinda cute though... gonna miss seeing pictures of him. just a little._

She knows with every ounce of her being that the blogger is winning - what Emilie feels right now is exactly what the poster wants. They want her to feel as small and insignificant as possible, like she’s intruded on whatever relationship Niall has with his fans. They demand that she know her place in the world and it isn’t by Niall’s side. And damn it all if Emilie hasn’t started believing it.

The only thing she can do now, though, is make sure Ryder doesn’t miss Niall. That the child is happy as he possibly can be. She wants this transition to be easy for him - or at least, less traumatising. All she hopes for is that he’s too young now to remember later just how big a presence in their lives that Niall was. Once Ryder has acclimated to a life without Niall, everything will go on as it should. Niall Horan will be just a painful, bittersweet memory that Emilie will forever carry with her, but Ryder will be fine.

Ryder waves before clambering up the steps to the play structure. The playground is filled to the brim with the screeching delight of dozens of kids, mothers and fathers and everything in between watching over their offspring in the late-morning heat. Emilie settles more comfortably on the bench and smiles when Ryder goes down the slide without prompting. He walks toward her as quickly as he can, launches himself into her legs.

“You see, An’ Em?”

“I did see, baby. You were a brave boy, going down the slide by yourself. I’m proud of you.”

“I coffee? An’ Em, coffee?”

Emilie frowns. She hasn’t been to San Francisco Bakery & Cafe once since she and Ryder moved back into the flat; instead, she’s tried to get her caffeine from Starbucks, though it’s vastly underwhelming compared to what used to be her usual coffeeshop. She also hasn’t been taking any of Derek or Monica’s calls or texts, and their worry has shown by the fact that her mother has tried to contact her, as well. She wonders if they tried calling Niall. Shaking her head, she reaches down to pull Ryder onto her lap.

“Do you _really_ want coffee, little man?”

“Coffee!”

“Then I guess we’re going to get coffee.”

Ryder squeaks happily in the backseat when Emilie comes to a stop in the car park, and she laughs as she turns off the engine. She stares through the window at the coffeeshop, swallowing against the shame that spirals through her. How the Hell is she going to look at her best friends and admit that she has lost the one relationship they’ve ever actively supported? Her breath comes out shakily, and Emilie pushes the thoughts away.

“Be right there,” Derek calls without turning from the espresso machine.

Emilie forces a smile in apology to the line of customers as she and Ryder step past, and she steers the toddler toward a table. Unfortunately, her trek is interrupted by a voice calling her name. Ryder’s hand tugs from hers and then he’s off, running toward Monica with the agility of a drunken puppy. He giggles even as he falls to the floor.

“Hey, little guy! Oh, I’ve missed you so much. How are you?” Monica scoops him up off the floor, spinning him in circles, then plants loud kisses on his cheek. “What’cha want today?”

Emilie waves awkwardly when Derek finishes pulling the espresso shots and turns to look at her. His lips tug down into a dark scowl, and she shifts her weight between her feet before sitting down at the four-top. Monica joins her moments later, setting Ryder down into the seat across from his aunt. He immediately starts tearing chunks off his muffin and stuffing them into his mouth. Emilie does her best to avoid the weight of Monica’s scrutiny, but it’s almost impossible, especially when Monica opens her mouth to speak.

“I love seeing your face, Bean, you know this. But… why are you here?”

“Because I want coffee.”

“Emilie, don’t be a smartass. You’re supposed to be in LA, living it up with your boyfriend in perpetual sunshine.”

“It rains in LA,” Emilie protests weakly, and Monica frowns and rolls her eyes. “Stop, Monie.”

“Then tell me why you’re here.”

Ryder turns toward Monica, holds out a fistful of muffin bits. “Ni-Ni no us home.”

“I’ll explain later,” whispers Emilie at the confused look that Monica sends her way.

“Em-”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now. So can we please just… _not_?”

Monica, thankfully, lets the subject drop, but she reaches across the table for Emilie’s hand. “We’ll come over tonight, okay? We’ll figure out how to fix whatever went wrong.”


	50. fifty.

The rest of the day is spent listening to her “effing feels” playlist, as Emilie had titled it, and watching as Ryder plays with the few toys left behind when they first moved out. She tries but she just can’t force herself to focus on the child as she normally would be able to. The emptiness of the flat is too suffocating, the quiet overwhelming. It’s been almost a week since the relationship met its demise, and she hurts just as fiercely. She doesn’t know when the pain will fade, but there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight.

Ryder falls asleep far more easily tonight than he has since LA disappeared from view. Emilie allows him to fall asleep on the couch with his cartoons playing quietly, Lionel the Lion tucked against his chest. She almost doesn’t want to move him, but Derek and Monica will be here soon. The conversation isn’t meant for his ears, and Emilie can’t risk him waking up to see her falling apart.

Once he’s in his own bed, she pulls the door shut behind her until the latch rests against the frame and drops down onto the sofa. The silence is too much to bear. It gives her mind the freedom to race around, thoughts clattering against themselves in an echoing reminder that she messed up. Her desperation for a perfect relationship brought about the destruction. She let her fears of losing Niall become reality because she wouldn’t talk to him.

_She stayed up all night and cried into her pillow, and fought off the urge to just break down and call. Last night to find the fault seemed so darn easy, but now who’s to blame don’t matter much at all._

Emilie snorts as Travis Tritt sings about foolish pride, the words too close to truth. Closing her eyes, she lets her head drop back and swallows against another wave of desolation. God, but does she miss him. When things were good, they were great. Niall made her feel safe, comforted, loved, and she walked away from that. All she has now are the memories.

A knock sounds at the door, quiet but still so loud over the sound of Tom Petty’s _Don’t Come Around Here No More_. Emilie sighs, pushing to her feet, and crosses the flat. She pulls the door open before the second round of knocking finishes, and Derek smiles sheepishly when his knuckles rap against her forehead. Her lips twitch in a forced facsimile of a smile, but she knows it falls flat when he and Monica exchange a pointed look.

Pushing past her, Derek heads straight for the cupboard with the glasses while Monica wraps her arms around Emilie’s shoulders. It’s all the permission Emilie needs; she falls apart in the warm strength of her friend’s arms. She hates feeling so weak, but here and now, she can’t imagine holding all of this inside. Not when her two best friends are here.

_Waiting for your call, I’m sick. Call, I’m angry. Call, I’m desperate for your voice. Listening to the song we used to sing in the car, do you remember?_

“C’mon, babe, let’s go sit down.”

Emilie follows Monica to the couch, sinking into the cushions, and lets out a shaky breath as her friend turns off the music. “Thanks for coming.”

“Oh, honey, of course we’d come. You need us, so… we’re here. I didn’t realise it was so bad,” she admits with a gesture to the phone on the coffee-table.

“Okay. Wine and Whine?” Derek asks as he sits on the couch to Emilie’s left.

She shakes her head but takes the glass of wine he offers. “It’s a bit more than a Whine, D.”

“So talk to us, let us help you.”

So Emilie does. She lays her entire heart and soul bare for her best friends to see. She shows every beaten, bruised part of her that she’s kept hidden, and she cries as she tells them how this isn’t much of a clean break and everything reminds her of Niall, of the way he made her feel so cared for and loved - until recently, that is. Every thought she has revolves around him in some fashion, made worse with guilt that Ryder is hurting, too. Emilie hesitates then admits that she doesn’t think they can come back from this.

Or if she even wants to.

Monica frowns, sympathy etched in every facet of her face, and she tugs Emilie into her side. “Oh, Beanie Baby. Did you tell him any of this?”

“No,” Emilie sniffles and swallows a mouthful of moscato, clearing her throat softly. “Why should I? I shouldn’t ha-have to remind someone who supposedly loves me that I’m still here. I shouldn’t have to tell him I’m an actual human being who’s worthy of attention, affection, and love.”

“But you’re not.”

Emilie turns betrayed eyes onto Derek, stunned speechless. Even Monica looks startled at his words. He sighs, sets his glass aside, and pulls Emilie’s free hand into his. His fingers don’t slot perfectly with hers, and she bites down on her lower lip to quell the hurt that rises. Her entire being yearns for the home she created with Niall, even though it’s impossible now.

“That’s the thing about love, Em. We don’t deserve it. No one is worthy of it, not without a lot of hard fucking work. But, even knowing that, we go out, and we find it. We fight for it. We hold it tight and let it go and repeat the cycle over and over until we die. But don’t think any of us is worthy of love like that if we’re not willing to put in the work.”

“As much as I disagree with how he said it, D-bag is right,” Monica murmurs as she runs a hand along Emilie’s back. “And Niall may be sexy as Hell and look like an angel on Earth, but Bean, he’s only human. He’s going to act like a jackass sometimes, much like you can be a stubborn little shit.”

“Is this supposed to be making me feel better?” Emilie asks, wincing when her voice cracks, and Monica huffs out a laugh.

“I’m just telling you the truth as I know it. Okay? He’s going to get so wrapped up in himself that he puts you to the side. I’m not saying it’s okay or that you should just accept it, but it’s a human thing. Nothing against you.”

Derek squeezes Emilie’s hand, smiles softly when she meets his eye. “You have to be the storm that opens his eyes. You have to walk right up to him and say ‘You’re treating me like shit, and I don’t deserve it’.”

“I love you, Bean, and I love Niall. I think you two are great for each other. I really hope you guys can work this out.”

“I... I don’t wanna talk about this any more.”

Derek and Monica exchange a look over Emilie’s head and prove their status as “best best friends ever” by shutting up, dropping the topic, and allowing Emilie to drink as much wine as she wants without any more talking. But Emilie knows they’re right.

She knows what she should have done, but it's too late now. It has been a week since the fight. Since she left. Niall hasn’t called. Mully stopped calling the day after she and Ryder came back. Louis has only sent her one message, and that was an acknowledgement of her cancelling the play-date. What does this mean when none of them care any more?

Emilie settles in between her friends and slowly falls asleep in the middle of a _Letterkenny_ marathon with her head in Derek’s lap, Monica’s hand a gentle pressure on her ankle, and her own heart breaking further at yet another night out of love.

**[-_-_-_-]**

Niall sighs heavily, pushing the car door shut. It’s been a long week, and he is so glad to be home again. He scrubs a hand over his face, ambles up the walk. A yawn forces itself out of him, his jaw letting out a cracking sound. He shakes his head to clear it of the fog that’s settled over his thoughts.

The last eight days have been, simply put, utter Hell. Every morning, in that split second between dreaming and awake, he’d rolled over in bed and reached for - no one. His hand kept stretching out, but it never met the familiar warmth of Emilie’s body. He was unable to eat any breakfast with how violently his stomach churned at the realisation that he was still alone, and something deep inside of him had reminded him, over and over, and over, that he shouldn’t have left like he did.

He should have waited for Emilie to come back. They should have talked about whatever was bothering her. Instead, he’d watched her leave with Ryder, went upstairs, and finished packing. Not coming back after the hours spent at 40 Love was the biggest mistake he could have made - that he _did_ make. He wishes he had gone back home, even if it meant all they did was fight until the sun rose and he had to leave for his flight. That he had chosen to miss that flight, consequences be damned, so they could have had a chance to fix this.

Niall’s skin crawls as he steps over the threshold. The house is completely silent, which isn’t unexpected. It’s not even four in the afternoon, which means Emilie won’t be home for another hour. He closes the door behind him and freezes. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle, a shiver racing down his spine, and the eerie quiet lingers heavily, presses down on him. An alarm in the back of his mind pulsates, glowing red.

Walking through the house doesn’t give him any clues. Nothing is out of place: The remotes are on the tray, throw blanket folded over the back of the couch, and the dishes are put away in the kitchen. Everything is where it should be. It’s too quiet, even without Mully here. Niall makes his way up the stairs, straining his ears to hear anything.

Entering the bedroom, Niall spins to examine his surroundings. The bed has been made, and the hamper is empty. Not one piece of clothing is on the floor, which isn’t surprising - he’s the one who is guilty of dropping the occasional sock instead of getting it fully where it belongs. He can’t see anything that would cause such a permeating dread.

Then he does.

The empty hangers on the closet rod. The shelf devoid of her suitcase. His sweater - the one she claimed as hers before she even moved in - gone. Niall’s hand trembles, reaching for the switch, and he blinks rapidly in the sudden spark of light from the overhead bulb. His eyes haven’t deceived him.

Ryder’s nightlight is unplugged, sitting innocuously on his chest of drawers as if it isn’t an omen, but the outlet isn’t covered as it normally is. Emilie must have known no tiny fingers would be at risk of trying to jam themselves into the socket. His toys have been put away, and the drawers are nearly empty. The Paw Patrol pillow is missing from the bed. Lionel the Lion is nowhere to be found.

Niall stumbles from the room and down the stairs. His stomach threatens to expel his breakfast, but he forces the bile down as he scrolls through his contacts. The call goes straight to Emilie’s answerphone. Niall hangs up with a vicious stab of his thumb to button then scrolls again. Louis hasn’t heard from Emilie, and concern floods his words as he admits that she cancelled a play-date a few days ago.

“Mate, what’s going on?”

Niall swallows thickly, shoves his fingers through his hair. “I-I don’t know. She didn’t say anything to you?”

“She just said she was doing poorly and that she’d let me know when she felt better. Niall?”

“I think I fucked up,” he whispers; the words claw their way from his throat with all the grace of shattered glass.

Louis doesn’t have anything to say to that, but Niall has no expectations for a reply. He hangs up without bothering to say goodbye, scans the list of numbers in his phone. His thumb taps a name, though he certainly gave no permission.

“I see you’ve noticed she’s gone.”


	51. fifty-one.

“She’s there?” Niall croaks out, too afraid to hope.

Monica’s heavy sigh crackles down the line, and Niall is sure he isn’t imagining the disappointment in her voice when she confirms that Emilie fled to Austin, Ryder in tow. He drops clumsily into a chair at the table, fingers clenching into a fist on his knee. Clearing his throat does little to get rid of the lump that’s lodged itself there.

“Did she say anything?”

“I… I can’t tell you that, Niall. I’m sorry. God, I wish I could, but Bean made me and Derek promise that we’d stay out of it.”

His voice crackles, shatters apart, as he asks, “What am I going to do?”

“The only thing I _can_ say with certainty is that she’s not ready for the end. Not really. The question is: Are you?”

Her words are a challenge, one that demands the right decision. He can either let his little family, the one he’s found in Emilie and Ryder, slip through his fingers. Or he can fight for them.

Niall tells Monica he will call her back, hanging up without another word, then hurries upstairs. He knows his suitcase from the trip is still downstairs, but he needs clean clothes. Outfits not meant for golf or press. Packing takes very little time; he doesn’t pay attention to what he shoves into his carry-on beyond how soft the clothing is. He’s far too impatient to spare any further thought than that. All of his brainpower is strictly focused on what he could possibly say to Emilie when he’s face-to-face with her.

This isn’t what he wanted. He should have tried harder that night.

_She should have, too_, his brain whispers, and Niall falters in his movements. The last thing he wants to do is split the blame between the two of them, but he knows the voice is right. Traitorous and ill-timed, but correct. She should have talked to him instead of walking out.

Emilie should have called him at any point and yelled. Screamed. Anything.

Instead, she tucked tail and rain, taking Ryder with her and leaving Niall’s heart behind.

Harry and Louis are in the front hall when Niall barrels down the stairs, luggage in hand. He skids to a stop, and as he stands there staring at them, his heart hammers in his chest - from fear of being too late or hope that he still has a chance, he isn’t quite sure. Harry rolls his eyes and gestures toward the door.

“Don’t just stand there. You’ve a plane to catch.”

As Louis drives toward the airport, he glances at Niall from the corner of his eye. “I figured she left when you told me you fucked up. Also figured she’d go back to what she knows.”

“And I was ’round at Louis’s when the phone conversation happened, so we put our heads - and wallets - together to get you a last-minute flight to Austin. It leaves in a little under three hours.”

“Thanks,” Niall whispers through numb lips. “I’ll -”

“Go to Texas, win back your girl and kid, then bring them home without worrying about repaying us.”

“Harry…”

Harry shakes his head, leaning up between the seats to stare at Niall directly. “Look, obviously you two didn’t talk about this beforehand, so this wasn’t a mutually-decided breakup. You love her and Ryder. He loves you. She loves you. We aren’t about to let you lose them for whatever reason less than you two agreeing you’re over.”

The car comes to a stop outside the airport forty minutes later, and it takes all of Niall’s willpower to move, to unbuckle his belt. Now that he’s faced with the reality of going to her, his courage is evaporating fast.

What if Monica is wrong? What is he going to do if Emilie is ready to let the sun set on their relationship?

“If it comes to that, mate, just know you won’t be alone.”

Surprised that he’s spoken his fears aloud, all Niall can do is nod at Louis’s words, though he isn’t quite sure it’s that simple. Harry claps a hand to Niall’s shoulder than starts shoving him toward the door. Their encouragement is nowhere near enough to actually give Niall strength, but he appreciates the attempts nonetheless. So he swallows thickly, pushes open the door, and takes his carry-on that Harry passes over to him.

Every step toward the entrance is painful. Each impact of shoe to pavement echoes with the remains of fragile hope drowned out by terror of love lost. Voices swell around him, crash into his senses as a tidal wave of muffled noise, and he checks the ticket that Harry had emailed to him on the drive. Finding the terminal, Niall braces himself for anything that may happen.

Monica is waiting in the car park by the time Niall has made it through security and out of the Austin-Bergstrom International Airport almost six hours later. Her dark eyes are covered by the sunglasses she wears, but her lips curve up into a smile when she sees him approaching. A fluttering kicks up in his chest as she hugs him tightly.

“You made the right choice, _pobrecito_.”

“Then why do I feel like this is going to blow up in my face?”

“Because love is fucking hard.”

“Does she know?” he asks quietly once he’s buckled into the front seat, and Monica shakes her head.

“Telling her you’re coming would only result in her rabbiting.” She catches the questioning looks he sends her, huffs out a laugh. “You don’t know.”

“Know what?”

“Okay. He doesn’t act like it, but her dad? Loaded. I mean, not to your level of loaded, but definitely above comfortable. He’s the good kind of loaded, though. He worked really hard to get where he is, and he doesn’t believe in that whole ‘hoarding wealth’ thing. He donates so much to loads of local charities, and he paid for Emilie’s apartment so she could focus on school and Ry. He’s still paying for it even though she moved in with you.”

“That’s nice of him… I think. Was he hoping we’d break up?”

Monica snorts, reaching over to pat his hand, and swears under her breath when someone speeds past her. “Of course not. He just wanted a familiar place for y’all to stay instead of renting a hotel room whenever you visit. He just wants her to be happy, Niall. He knows you make her happy. Therefore, he is invested in your relationship. Don’t worry, he doesn’t know about this,” Monica assures him; she’s obviously read the apprehension on his face correctly.

Niall blows out a breath as the building comes into view. Rising high above the surrounding shops, the sight is familiar, even after the months since he’s been here. Monica finds a spot halfway down the block, parallel-parking with an ease that sparks Niall’s jealousy - she makes it look so simple. He stares at her hands on the steering wheel; she puts the car in park, leaves the engine running as she turns in her seat to look at him.

“When you get to the parking structure, there’ll be a small alley thing off to the right, just in front of the door. Go through there, past the courtyard, and into the main building. Fifth floor, obviously. Left, two rights, another left, and her door will be halfway down.”

“Thanks, Monica. I, I can’t thank you enough. But why are you helping me?”

She shrugs. “Because you make my Beanie Baby happier than I’ve ever seen her since we became friends. If I didn’t think you were good for her, I would never have laid my bets on you. With that said, I wish you luck.”

“Beanie Baby?”

“Stop stalling, Romeo. Go get your Juliet.”

“You know they both died, right?”

“Niall? Fucking go.”

He does. Thankfully, her directions were clear, and Niall is nearing the door he never thought he’d be in front of again. He thought when Emilie moved out, it would be permanent. This flat was supposed to be far in their past, only ever disturbed on vacations.

So many memories were made here. Their friendship, sleeping together for the first time, falling in love with her, with Ryder… All wonderful events that transformed his whole world. She and Ryder burst into his life, brought so much colour to his existence. If this ends up going to Hell, then at least he’ll have the scars made from memories of how deeply he loves them.

He wants to keep them. He wants to keep the love he’s built with her. He wants his family back.

Niall draws in a steadying breath and raps his knuckles against the door, staring without seeing at the plaque. **14-05B**. He hates the numbering system here. It makes no sense. He shivers as the air-con pushes cold air through the corridor. His skin feels five sizes too small, and bile creeps up his throat the longer he has to wait. Black spots dance along the edge of his vision; that traitorous voice tells him, again, that this shouldn’t be just on him to fix.

The door slowly opens, the chain straightening with a metallic _click_, and Niall gets his first glimpse of Emilie in the last week. Her breath comes out in a shuddering gust, as if she can hardly dare to exist with him in front of her. The knife someone must have stuck him with twists viciously at the sight of tear-clumped lashes around eyes rimmed in red. His gaze drops to her swollen, chapped lips - evidence of where she’s most likely chewed on them to hide her emotions from Ryder.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he manages to rasp out. His throat grows tight, and tears prickle at his own eyes. “I’m sorry, and I- I don’t know what went wrong, but can we talk about this? Please? I’m not ready for goodbye. Not yet.”

Emilie stares at him through the crack between door and frame for a long minute. It scares Niall how he can’t read her expression. He used to be able to look at her and know what she was feeling, thinking, but now, he might as well be trying to understand a brick. The floor falls from beneath his feet when she shuts the door. His breath hitches. Niall can’t breathe. He can’t think or process what’s happening.

He stumbles back, blinks once, twice, then Emilie is there again. She doesn’t say a word. She just turns on her heel and walks further into the flat. Niall’s body moves of its own accord, fear that this is a trick spurring him quicker. His feet take the steps forward, his hand shuts and locks the door, and his heart thunder under his ribs.

Everything screams for him to run to her.

To hold her as tightly as he possibly can.

To never let her go again.

He doesn’t, though. He fights the urge. She left for a reason, so he isn’t going to force himself into her personal space. As much as he aches to, he can’t do that to her. He’s already hurt her enough. He follows her into the kitchen but keeps his distance.

Ryder stops squishing mashed potatoes between his fingers as soon as Niall steps past the entry hall. His big blue eyes grow even wider, and his fists slam into the tray of his high-chair over and over as he squeals.

“Ni-Ni! An’ Em, Ni-Ni!”

“Yeah, Ni-Ni is here.”

“Ni-Ni, up! Up!”

“Do you mind?” he asks Emilie in an undertone.

The look she gives him is unreadable, then she dips her chin succinctly. Niall ignores the washcloth on the counter in favour of unbuckling Ryder, holding him close. Niall knows that there is now food all over the back of his shirt, but he doesn’t care. This is worth the mess. He buries his face in Ryder’s hair and breathes in the scent of baby shampoo.

As he wipes the toddler’s face and hands, Niall glances at Emilie where she’s stood at the end of the island. She shields herself, arms hugging herself tightly and face closed off. The last thread holding his heart together snaps, and he closes his eyes.

“Can we talk?”

Instead of replying, she disappears into her bedroom, and the door closes with a click that sounds far too final. Niall carries Ryder to the couch, dropping onto the cushions, and runs his fingers lightly over the child’s back. He wonders if this is it.

He thought he was prepared, but how does one prepare for losing the greatest love they’ll ever find?


	52. fifty-two.

  
__________________

The bedroom door creaks open, and Emilie clears her throat softly. Niall hesitates then looks away from Ryder, up at the woman who has the potential to destroy him. She beckons him closer, and Niall hates that he can’t decipher what her eyes are telling him.

Exhaling sharply, Niall sets the toddler on the floor, kisses his hair with a promise to be right back. Ryder pouts but doesn’t fuss; he just crawls across the living room to the bin of toys. So Niall steels himself against all that can go wrong and makes his way to Emilie’s side.

She waits until he’s sat on the end of the bed before drawing in a long, slow breath. Niall stares blankly at the leather-bound book that she holds out to him. Her journal. He knows it’s her journal, he’s seen it often enough over the last year. He also knows it’s the one thing she has requested he never touch, even under duress. He shifts his gaze to her face.

There is no amusement, nothing to suggest that this is a trick. Her lips quirk up at the corners, a quick twitch, as Niall reaches out for the journal slowly. Her mouth opens as if she’s going to say something, but she shakes her head without a word. Emilie leaves him then, closing the door behind her, and his fingers tremble as he strokes over the cover of the book. After a moment, he flips the journal open to the first page she has marked.

> _Niall leaves for some golf thing tomorrow. He always has so much fun with these things. I think he really enjoys having his own company for this. I’ll miss him obviously, but I can’t deny that I love seeing him so ecstatic. I just wish I could be as happy as he is.  
__________________  
It’s been three days since he called and honestly? It doesn’t feel that long. I don’t wait by the phone or even get upset any more. Is that a bad thing? That I don’t NEED to hear his voice?  
__________________  
Work was fucking rough today. I feel like I’m drowning. The job itself is so easy, but… I know I should be happy that Niall is home again and I get to see him, but I just - I don’t know. It just feels like everything we’ve had has disappeared. I mean, I still love him. God, do I fucking love him even though I can’t say the words. So much. But we don’t actually talk any more. It hurts so much to know it’s all become about sex, Ry, or superficial bullshit._
> 
> _I want to go back to when we first started, when we would talk all day and night about everything, no matter how silly and trivial. I just want to be happy again. Why can’t I be happy? The first thing he said to me today when he got home was “Where’s Ryder?” No mention of whether or not he missed me. No hug or kiss or even so much as “hi”… It took everything I had in me to not burst into tears right then because it HURT. When did he stop caring about me???  
__________________  
Last night was the first night he didn’t say “I love you” before hanging up. I didn’t even notice until he sent a text an hour later saying it. I don’t know how I feel about this. I know it should hurt that he didn’t and that I didn’t even notice, but… I’m confused. I don’t like it. I just want to know what to do. Should I just break up with him and move back home with Ry? Or should I suffer through and hope it gets better? Neither of those sounds like a good option, but I’m afraid it’s all I have. Talking to him about it… I don’t think I could do that. I don’t want to risk him coming to the conclusion that he doesn’t love me any longer, that he’s only sticking around because he doesn’t want to hurt Ryder. I don’t know if I could survive knowing that.  
__________________  
I haven’t heard from him in almost a week. He’s been working on songs for his new album, writing constantly, and that’s fine. I’m glad. His music is important to him. But when I’m forced to go to bed alone or when I only see him for 10 minutes before bed and it’s just so he can give me a kiss and we can have sex… It’s a problem. I’ve done all that I can think of to make life easier on him. It’s worse because Mom, Mama, and Dad love the shit out of him. But this isn’t what I wanted. This isn’t what I need. I need something different. I need him to love me like he did before.  
__________________  
We got into a fight. Kind of. He forgot about picking Ry and me up from work, and when Josh dropped us off at home, I found out the reason he forgot was because he was too busy talking to Lewis to remember us. I took Ry out for some chicken nuggets, and when we got home, Niall was nowhere to be found. He never came home. I could feel my entire world crashing down around me because it proves what I’ve feared - he doesn’t love me like he says he does. I’m just… a safety option, I guess.  
__________________  
He hasn’t noticed we’re gone yet. It’s been 5 days since Ryder and I came back to Austin. Ry isn’t happy about it. He’s constantly asking about his Ni-Ni, and I just don’t know what to tell him. Thankfully, Derek and Monica know now. They’ll be able to help us. They’ll help Ryder adjust, and they’ll help me get over my broken heart._
> 
> _I think Monica is upset that I never told them how I was feeling, but what was I supposed to say? “Oh, hey, I know we’re all BFFs and all and that I up and moved in with some guy 1400 miles away, but I think it was a mistake because now I’m miserable and he fell out of love with me, but hey, how are YOU?”_
> 
> _That’s not exactly an easy conversation. And yeah, they ARE my best friends, but I don’t want or need their judgement. I don’t want them pissed off and take it out on Niall. It isn’t their place. Besides, it isn’t his fault he no longer gives a damn about me. He made a decision based on his own feelings, and I’ll just have to accept that. To move on._
> 
> _I don’t know. Maybe I’m overthinking this. I just really fucking miss Niall. I miss being in love with him. I miss being happy with him in a way I never have been before. I wonder if he misses that, too… _

Niall’s chest is hollow, tight, by the time he finishes reading the entries. They date back for months. The first one was shortly after the night they talked about his difficulty adjusting to the change of having and Ryder living with him. He can’t understand how she kept this from him for so long, though he understands why.

Blowing out a tremulous breath, he scrubs a hand over his eyes. How could he have been so blind? How could he not have noticed Emilie withdrawing from him? He sets the journal aside, wipes away the dampness on his cheeks, and stands.

It may have been his lack of attention and her lack of communication that caused this fracture, but he’ll be damned if he lets it break them completely.

Emilie is curled up on the sofa, cuddling with Ryder as he struggles to stay awake while cartoons play quietly on the television. She glances up as he nears. Her dark eyes skim over his face, brows drawing tightly together, and Niall shakes his head.

“We can talk once he’s asleep,” he whispers, and she nods, turning her attention back to the telly.

Niall sits by her feet, pulls them into her lap, and she giggles softly when his thumbs dig into the arch of her foot. He flicks at her ankle as she tries to tug away from his foot, but he’s falling headfirst into the sound of her laughter. It’s been too long. With a quiet sigh, she calms down and lets him continue.

Thankfully, Ryder gives up on fighting sleep within the half-hour; his soft snores are just barely quieter than the show. Niall gestures for Emilie to stay where she is and gingerly moves her feet off his lap. Her gaze is heavy on his face as he leans down to scoop the child into his arms, but she doesn’t say a word.

The bedroom door creaks softly as it swings open on its hinges. Ryder sleeps on, and Niall smiles down at the toddler, carries him across the room. Pressing a gentle kiss to the boy’s curls, Niall tucks him in and stays there, crouched next to the cot. His throat tightens the longer he watches Ryder sleep.

Niall is sure he can move past a failed relationship. He's certainly done it before. It would take time, definitely, and he would carry the scars with him for the rest of his life. But losing Ryder, too? That wound would never heal.

He blinks rapidly against the tears then forces himself to move, to leave the room and confront whatever is about to happen. Emilie is still lying on the couch. Her eyes are closed, but he knows she isn’t asleep. The tension in her body is evidence enough.

Slipping into the space behind her, Niall pulls her until her back is pressed to his chest. Her breath comes out shakily as he drapes his arm over her waist, and he holds her close and wonders where his words have gone.

“I’m sorry.”

“What the Hell are you sorry for?” he whispers, buries his face in her hair.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you by letting you read my journal.”

“Oh, darling, no. You didn’t hurt me. Reading how you’ve been feeling hurts, yes, but that isn’t your fault.”

“I just… Niall, our relationship revolved around sex and Ryder. You and I, we never talked. Actually talked. I kept hoping it would get better, but it never did.”

Her voice cracks, breathing grows harsh, and he realises that she’s started crying. Niall wants to say something to make it better. To take away all the pain he has caused her. But there’s nothing that can change what has been done.

Emilie sniffles and brushes a hand over her cheeks. “I tried. I did everything I could to figure out where things were going wrong and to fix them. I, I don’t know what else I could have done.”

“You couldn’t have done anything. It was- it was all me.” His arm tightens around her instinctively, and he struggles to get himself back under control. “I didn’t… I didn’t realise I was making you so miserable. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, I know you are,” she sighs, pushing out of his grasp and sitting up.

Cold washes over him now that her body is no longer against his. She scoots down to the other end of the couch, and the aching in his heart grows more painful with the distance between them. She refuses to meet his eye. Her fingers visibly shake as they rake through her hair.

“You saying you’re sorry? It’s not good enough. You can say you’re sorry until you’re fucking blue in the face, but Niall, I want to know what you’re going to _do_. What action are you going to take to make sure this doesn’t happen again?

“Because I won’t go through it a second time. There’s a little boy in that room that needs stability. He _deserves_ stability for the first time in his short life. Ry deserves to be loved and never have to wonder if he’s going to be left alone. And honestly? I deserve the same thing.”

Niall swallows thickly. “I-”

She speaks over him, voice tremulous yet so firm at the same time, “I deserve to be really, truly happy and not worrying about when things are going to get so messed up again.”

The room echoes with the force of her statement, and she finally drags her gaze to his face. Niall slides his legs off the couch until his feet hit the floor, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

Emilie is right. Of course she is. He should have done more to make sure she never felt like this. He should have paid more attention, shown her more love, made sure she knew how important she was - _is_ \- to him. Because he loves her more than he thought possible, even though he’s done a piss-poor job of showing it.

“I know. And Em, I’m so fucking sorry you’ve not had that with me. You’re right. You and Ryder… you deserve so much better than how I’ve treated you. Why didn’t you say something, though?” She twitches at his words, but he ignores it, pushes forward. “We’re supposed to be a team. You should have told me how unhappy you were.”

She sighs, bringing her knees to her chest, and stares down at the chipped polish on her toenails. “Because I thought it would change. That all I had to do was hold on for just a little bit longer, and you’d go back to being the guy I fell in love with.”

“Em, I’m not a mind-reader. I know I can get wrapped up in my own head sometimes, and I know it’s a problem. I’ve always know that.” He swallows down the surge of anger and forces himself to speak steadily, calmly, “It isn’t fair that you expected me to what, just _know_ how you were feeling? How can we be partners in this if you don’t actually tell me anything? No, don’t, please. Let me finish. Emilie, if we’re going to work, I need you to promise me that you’ll start calling me out on it. Please.”

“I want us to work,” she whispers after nearly two minutes of complete silence; she rests her head against her knees, pins him with a watery stare.

“So do I, love, more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.”

“More than winning X-Factor?”

The joke falls flat, humourless in the face of the situation, but Niall takes it as permission. She doesn’t move as he stands and crosses to sit next to her. The tension slips from her body when he wraps an arm around her shoulders, tugging her into his side. He presses a kiss to her hair and closes his eyes against tears.

“I can’t tell you how much more. There are no words.”


	53. fifty-three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **  
_surprise!_  
**  


They sit there for a long few minutes, silent and holding onto each other for dear life. Niall lets out a slow breath and settles back into the cushions, and Emilie follows without hesitation. Her head drops to rest against his chest, and he absentmindedly runs his fingers along her arm, soft as a feather.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he murmurs into the quiet, and she sniffles and presses her face into his T-shirt.

“I hate it, too.”

“The only way I ever want to make you unhappy is by refusing to let you eat in the car.”

His words have their intended affect - Emilie giggles softly, sitting up, and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. The haunted pain in her eyes has disappeared, replaced by a glimmer of hope. It’s weak, but it’s there. Niall blows out a breath as she links his fingers with his.

“Oh, babe, that’s not me being unhappy. That’s me being a whiny baby because I don’t wanna wait for food. There’s a difference.”

He shakes his head with a chuckle and gives her hand a gentle tug. She curls back into his side again, and Niall breathes in the scent of her shampoo. The minty-citrus aroma is so familiar, and he is sure he will never find another smell that he loves more. He closes his eyes and holds her ever more tightly.

He aches to take back all the pain and loneliness that she has endured over the last few months. He knows this isn’t going to be a quick fix, and he is still so angry that she never bothered to talk to him. But they are here now, both invested in making this work, and all he can do is make sure he never makes Emilie feel as hopeless as she has.

Her face turns toward his, lips parting as if to say something. Niall’s breath hitches in his throat at the sight. Even with lashes clumped together and bloodshot eyes, he’s hard-pressed to think of anyone he has ever thought more beautiful. He ducks his head, kisses her gently, and the jagged edges in his chest smooth out. This… this is coming home.

Heat blooms in his blood, electricity coursing through his veins, as her fingers wrap in the fabric of his shirt. Her nails scratch against his skin through the cotton, and his gut clenches with the contact. A small voice in his head questions whether this is a good idea - they _were_ just separated, after all - but his body ignores the logical and reacts purely to the physical.

The kiss turns insistent, harder and yearning. Niall is intoxicated by the taste and feel of her, the way she gives as much as she takes, how badly he wants this for the rest of his life. He skims a hand over her side, pushes against her until she’s stretched out beneath him. A low, pleading moan slips from her as he shifts his mouth to her throat. He breathes out shakily, nips at the skin below her jaw.

“We’re not having sex on the couch,” she manages to gasp out, and her fingers yank at his hair. Razor-sharp desire tears through him, silencing that voice in his head and drowning out his rational mind. “Ni-Niall…”

Slipping a hand across her belly under her shirt, Niall presses a kiss to her collarbone, the opal pressing against the bridge of his nose, before glancing up at her through his lashes. “Why not, love? You never had a problem with it before.”

“Well, true, but _that_.”

He follows her gaze and abruptly goes cold as if he’s been doused with ice-water. Ryder stands in the doorway to the bedroom, a chubby fist scrubbing at his eyes. His purple lion dangles limply from his arm. Emilie wiggles slightly so she can see past Niall’s shoulder, and he barely restrains the groan at the pressure.

“Ni-Ni?”

_Fuck_. “What’s wrong, bud?”

“I had bad dream. I wet.”

“Oh, no. That’s not good.” Niall looks back at Emilie and rolls his eyes when he sees her amused smile. “This isn’t funny.”

She merely shrugs in response. Niall sticks his tongue out at her and turns his head. Ryder stares back expectantly, and Niall pushes himself to his feet. Keeping his back to the toddler, he adjusts his jeans and wills his heart to stop racing so wildly under his ribs. Emilie gives him an unashamed once-over, brow quirking as she smirks.

Once he’s calmed down, Niall crouches to kiss her again, lips forming an _I love you_ against hers, then makes his way across the living room. He takes Ryder by the hand, leads him to the bathroom, and helps the child strip out of his soiled pyjamas. Niall tosses the clothes toward the door and twists the taps on. Ryder lets out a soft sigh when Niall lifts him up, patting the man’s cheek clumsily, and drops Lionel the Lion to the floor as Niall sets him in the tub.

**[_-_-_-_]**

Emilie stands in the doorway, watching as Niall bathes Ryder. She is well-aware that she has probably forgiven her boyfriend far too quickly, that she should have tried harder to get over him. But her heart tells her this is the right thing to do. She’s learnt she can’t live without him - the last week has been awful, and there was no sign that it would get better. Her fingers play with the pendant at the base of her throat as she falls that much more in love with Niall.

Not having him around hasn’t only hurt her. Sure, Ryder has asked about Niall far less now than he did a week ago, but Emilie could see the sadness in Ryder’s eyes any time she refused to answer his questions or when she told him that Niall wasn’t here. She thought that she would be the only one struggling to get over the loss of Niall. She was wrong.

Emilie meant what she said, though: If it happens again, if she ever feels unimportant and neglected, she will leave and not look back. Not even if Niall were to crawl through fire for them. She can’t do this another time, and she will never forgive him for it. However, this time… she finds it impossible to not give him one more chance. He’s become so ingrained in her life that it physically hurts to consider any other option.

One quick bath later, Ryder yawns widely enough that Emilie can almost see down his throat. She passes over the fresh change of clothes and a pull-up, smiling when Ryder pitches forward to lean heavily against Niall’s chest. As her boyfriend dresses the child, she heads to the bedroom to peel back the wet linens and clean off the plastic mattress-cover with a disinfectant wipe.

The low hum of Niall murmuring from the bathroom follows Emilie as she tosses the bedding into the washing machine, and she smiles to herself at the sound. It’s home, his voice. It always will be. She just forgot that for a while.

She hurries to pour detergent and vinegar into the basin, setting the cycle, and the machine lets out a series of melodic beeps when she presses the start button. Her heart settles peacefully in her chest when she comes to a stop in the doorway, a pleasant warmth diffusing through her at the sight in front of her.

Niall sways on his feet, rocking Ryder from side to side, as the toddler rests his head on the man’s shoulder. Niall’s voice is pitched low and sweet as he sings _‘Cause you know it’ll be okay, fire away_. He catches her eye and sends her that gentle smile, the one she fell in love with over a year ago. She steps closer, kisses Ryder’s hair, then stands on her tiptoes to press her lips to Niall’s.

He hums longer to Ryder as she heads to the cupboard to pull down a set of new linens. Emilie can feel him watching her while she sets up the cot, but she ignores him, tucks in the sheets. Ryder snuffles and whines but doesn’t wake when Niall lays him down in bed. She brushes her fingers along Niall’s shoulders as she makes her way to the door, leaving him to finish saying goodnight to the toddler.

Busying herself with clearing the dishes, rinsing them and putting them in the sink, is unsuccessful - she finds herself distracted with everything that has plagued her mind and heart for the last week. Even longer, really. But those doubts and fears can be laid to rest for the time being. She knows it’s going to be a lot of hard work and some time before she can let herself trust that this won’t happen again, but loving Niall, being loved by him, is worth it.

Emilie turns off the lights on her way to the bathroom and searches in the drawers for an unopened toothbrush for Niall. She’s just readied her own toothbrush when he slips into the room, coming to a stop behind her. His arms come up to encircle her waist, his chest to her back, and he buries his face into her hair.

She doesn’t speak, doesn’t do anything other than brushing her teeth, as he tightens his grip on her. Eventually, though, he pulls away and moves to stand beside her; she shifts so he has room enough to use the sink as well, and her pinkie finger links with his. He stares down at the connection, lips quirking. Neither of them bother to pull away from each other even once they’ve finished.

“I’m still so sorry.”

Niall’s chest vibrates under her ear with his words, and Emilie presses the tips of her fingers more solidly against his skin. He doesn’t move when she turns her head to kiss his sternum. When she looks up at him, he’s staring at the ceiling, his left hand tucked under his head, and she frowns.

“Niall…”

“You deserve better than how I treated you.”

She stifles a sigh. He may be right, but he doesn’t need to beat himself up over this. They can work it out. They _will_.

“I know you’re sorry, honey. And, and I’m sorry, too. I could have just as easily told you what was wrong instead of running away like that. Monica and Derek made that point very clear.”

“Will you come back home with me?” he whispers, body tensing with the question, and Emilie pushes herself up onto one elbow to meet his eye. “It doesn’t feel like home without you and Ry.”

“Yeah, absolutely. We’ve missed you, too.”

He smiles slightly, sighing and settling further into the bed. As much as Emilie wants to finish what they started on the couch, as much as she craves him, she resists. It would only sully the tenderness and honesty of this moment. Instead, she curls up into his side and blows out a breath. Pale moonlight filters through the window, paints the floor with milky-white. Niall tightens his arm around her, and she lets the steady beat of his heart and his warmth, his _presence_, lull her to sleep.


	54. fifty-four.

Emilie checks the time on her phone, biting back a groan when she sees it isn’t even six o’clock yet. Already Ryder is whispering to himself, keeping his two-year-old self entertained while the adults sleep on. There’s a heavy fear blanketing her as she lies there: Was yesterday a dream? Is she going to find that Niall never showed up on her doorstep?

She carefully rolls over and frowns when her hair twists around her face. Pushing her hair away, she smiles slightly when she sees that Niall is awake as well, sleepy and real and here. His fingers trail along the curve of her cheek, then he leans forward to brush a kiss to her forehead.

“Morning.”

“Hi.”

“An’ Em?”

Giggling, Emilie lifts her head to see Ryder sitting up on his cot, hair sticking up in dozens of directions as he grins. “Hey, baby. You can get out of bed.”

Ryder doesn’t hesitate. He rushes across the room and clambers up onto the bed, giggling as he shoves his way in between Emilie and Niall. Emilie meets Niall’s eye and immediately dissolves into laughter. She’s missed this - the peaceful mornings waking with each other, the interruption of a child making a place for himself, the serenity of knowing she and Ryder are loved completely. Even before the separation, she hadn’t felt this way, not for months. She pushes the thought aside, stretching to kiss Ryder’s cheek.

“An’ Em?”

“Yes?”

“Coffee?”

“Sorry, little dude, it isn’t open for another hour.”

“Coffee, Ni-Ni?”

Niall coughs to hide his chuckles, but it’s a massive failure. “Auntie Emilie said it’s closed right now. We’ll go later, though.”

“I coffee.”

“In a bit.” Niall raises up on one elbow when Ryder opens his mouth. “We will get coffee later, I promise. For now, why don’t we take a quick nap?”

“No nap. You gone.”

Emilie’s heart shatters at the toddler’s words. She closes her eyes against the burning, but she can’t un-see the pain on Ryder’s face. Warm fingers wrap around hers, squeezing gently, and she stares at Niall. He smiles slightly, just the smallest curve to his lips, then turns his attention back to the child.

“I’m not going anywhere again, bud. I’m gonna be right here with you, okay?”

“Trust,” Ryder whispers after a long minute, the longest minute of Emilie’s life, and his lashes flutter against his cheeks as he falls asleep.

“Trust, forever and ever,” whispers Niall with a gentle kiss to the tot’s forehead.

When the trio wakes again, another two hours have passed, and true to his word, Niall is still there. He waits until Ryder has fully woken up before climbing out of bed, and he closes the bathroom door behind him. Emilie pulls Ryder closer, murmuring a quiet apology for all the hurt she’s caused him over the last week. He doesn’t seem to care for her apologies; he just pats her cheek and says “I coffee now?”

Ryder babbles about Monie, his “Unc Ick”, and coffee while Emilie changes into a pair of denim shorts and a black tank-top. Niall makes sure that the bag is stocked with a change of clothes, a stack of pull-ups, and Lionel the Lion, then he hooks the strap over his shoulder and reaches for Ryder’s hand. Emilie watches the two of them walking in front of her, unable to fight the smile. Shaking her head, she locks the door behind them and follows them to the car.

The lack of music would be disconcerting if it weren’t for the fact that Niall seems just as content without any songs to disrupt the easiness that’s settled in all around them. He keeps his hand in hers as she drives, occasionally responding to whatever Ryder is saying, though replies aren’t necessary - not with a two-year-old who is too busy talking about everything as long as it’s with his favourite people.

“What?” Emilie asks at the thoughtful expression on Niall’s face as he slows to a stop, staring up at the building, and he shakes his head. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing. Just thinking.”

She lets out a soft laugh, reaching over to poke his bicep over Ryder’s head. “Well, stop it. We’ve not even had coffee yet, so it’s far too early for something as annoying as _thinking_.”

He holds the door open to let Emilie and Ryder go in first. There are only two other customers inside, both too engrossed in their phones while they wait for their coffee to notice the newcomers. Emilie stifles a giggle when Ryder tugs on her hand, whines, and she crouches down to be on his level.

“Only to the case, okay? Anywhere else, and you go up.”

“No up. Case ‘kay.”

“Exactly. Go figure out what you want.”

She releases his hand, and he immediately surges forward, beelining for the glass-fronted counter. She sighs and stands upright, rests her head on Niall’s shoulder as they wait. He presses a kiss to her hair, and silently, they watch Ryder examine every pastry on display.

“I love you,” she whispers, her voice so soft she wonders if Niall has even heard her.

The way his fingers tighten around hers assures her that he has. It feels right, to say those words here and now. The separation has been Hell on Emilie - she has no idea if she’d have been able to handle the pain any longer - but… she doesn’t regret it. The distance seems to have opened his eyes as much as it did hers. She knows without a doubt now that he is the only one she will ever want so wholly. As much as she wishes they had just _talked_ before it got to the point of leaving, Emilie is pretty damned sure that this is what they needed.

It’s weird to think that. To know with complete certainty that if they had never separated, they never would have lasted. Everything had been too perfect, too good, for too long. Now they are past the worst and stronger for it. It has given way to the words she’s kept hidden from him, though he is the only person they have ever been meant so honestly for.

“I love you.”

Niall huffs out a laugh next to her. “I love you, too. Gonna keep saying it?”

“Only until I’m tired of saying it.”

“Any idea when that will be?”

She meets his eyes, so blue and clear and full of their future. “Probably half past never.”

“I can live with that,” he murmurs before ducking down to kiss her.

As soon as the other customers are gone, Monica lets out a loud squeal, rounding the counter. Emilie gets very Little warning before her friend is approaching, wrapping her up in a tight hug. Monica sways wildly, her voice a nonstop stream of sound, and Emilie’s eyes burn with unshed tears. She knew that Monica has been a fan of the relationship, but even she couldn’t have expected that Monica would react like this.

“You two are okay now? Please tell me you’re okay and moving back to LA because I’ll miss you but I just want you happy oh my god Bean!”

“What has Emmett told you about sampling the products, especially in vast quantities?” Emilie laughs as she pulls back. “But yes, we’re moving back to LA.”

“Thank fuck. I love seeing your face, _but_ I love seeing your face full of happiness through a video chat more. So what’cha getting today?”

As soon as Monica passes over the pastries they order, Niall places his hand on Emilie’s lower back, steering her toward a table. “I’ll wait for the drinks while you go relax.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Monica pouts when the bell jingles over the door, and Emilie turns away so her friend doesn’t see her giggling. As Niall nears the table, hands full of coffee and Ryder trailing behind him, Emilie lets out a soft sigh. The residual tension leeches from her body, the last bit of apprehension she’s felt since he showed up yesterday.

“Hey, Monica, can you turn the music up?”

Emilie frowns at Niall, but he ignores her, cocking his head as Monica takes a second from her tasks to do as asked. The familiar voice of Tracy Lawrence comes through the speakers, and Emilie snorts in amusement at the song.

_But right now I’m in heaven, and I can’t help myself. My little Texas tornado, blowing me away again. I swore it wouldn’t happen again, but I looked at you and then I’m like a tumbleweed in a wild west Texas wind. You’re blowing me away again._

“Wait, what are you doing?”

Niall laughs but doesn’t respond as he pulls his phone from his pocket. Emilie watches him unlock the device then she leans over to see that he’s editing her contact information to add a tornado emoji to the “Emmie” and heart that’s already there. Rolling her eyes, she shoves the plate with the danish toward him.

“Eat, weirdo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i told y'all [the coffeeshop](https://64.media.tumblr.com/11dcd41b66db47cf7ddf4771dc44eca6/6ec543bcc5f5f756-c8/s1280x1920/31f19792dac1bd2ebd1cc0f3233c9571ff251640.jpg) was real! 😂😂


	55. fifty-five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i have stated on my tumblr, i lost my grandfather over this past weekend. things are a mess for me right now. and there won't be an update next wednesday - i have a funeral to attend (social distancing and masks at all times, i promise!), but we'll get back to our regularly scheduled programming after that. 
> 
> thanks for giving my stories a chance and for your patience
> 
> xx

Niall sets Ryder down on the living room floor, pressing a kiss to the toddler’s forehead, then stands upright. Emilie stares unabashedly as her boyfriend stretches; his shirt rides up, exposes a strip of skin above the waistband of his jeans, and her heart quickens in her chest. He catches her staring and huffs out a laugh.

“I feel like you’re objectifying me,” he teases as he makes his way to her side.

“Of course I’m not. How dare you think that?”

"Sure, petal, you keep telling yourself that."

"Oh, I absolutely will." She wraps her arms around his neck, tugging him closer, kissing away his chuckles. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She cocks her head when he grimaces. "What's wrong?"

"We have to drive back, don't we?"

Emilie can't help it - she giggles at the petulance in his voice, the pout on his face. Niall frowns and pokes her nose, but his lips twitch up into a smile regardless. She laces her fingers with his and leads him to the couch; Ryder ignores the adults, too engrossed in making his dinosaur toys stomp across the floor. Emilie watches him for a moment, assures herself that he's fine. He's happy. Niall is smiling softly, understanding and promises in his eyes, when she turns back to him.

"He's okay, love."

"I know. I just... I'm worried that this last week has been harder on him than I could ever actually comprehend."

"It may have been hard on him, but I doubt that it's something that will stick with him. At worst, he grows up thinking it was a vacation."

"Yeah, a vacation full of sad songs and his auntie crying all the time."

Niall rolls his eyes and pulls her into his side. "Well, we're fixing that, right? You and me, in this together for the long run?"

Emilie doesn't have a response to that, but Niall doesn't seem to require an answer. Not to that. Emilie is thankful for his easy acceptance. She has hopes that this relationship will last, will grow stronger with time, and that they can both get over their issues and make it work. That whatever was wrong before won’t happen again.

“So. Driving back.”

“Yes. Driving. I like my car, ’kay? I don’t wanna leave it here.”

“And I don’t really want to drive that much.”

Emilie shrugs and pushes to her feet, padding to the kitchen for a drink; Niall follows, a shadow that she doesn’t mind having. “Well, then you can fly while Ry and I drive back.”

“I am _not_ letting you out of my sight for a very, very long time.”

Emilie stares at him with her glass raised halfway to her lips. The lack of amusement on his face, his lips pressed into a thin line… She has no doubts that he is miles away from joking around. She graciously decides not to remind him that he has promotional events and a tour to plan, which will force him to let her out of his sight. She knows it will most likely only serve to upset him.

So she swallows her mouthful of juice then sets the glass on the counter. Niall comes willingly enough, steps into the reach of her outstretched arms, and she grins up at him.

“Then we’re all driving together.”

His put-upon pout does nothing to hide the smile that he’s fighting. “Fine. I think I can handle that if you’re by my side.”

“For what it’s worth, it certainly can’t be more annoying than living with me. But there _will_ be eating in the car, and you, mister, are not allowed to say one single, solitary word about it.”

“Your car’s always been the one that food is allowed in,” he replies breezily, shrugging. “When did you want to start?”

“I have another couple days before I have to tell Desiree whether I’m coming back or not, so I figured we could take the opportunity to stay here until then. I could show you ‘round my town.”

“I’d love that.”

Niall chuckles softly, presses a kiss to her cheek, then steps back. Emilie follows him back to the couch, making sure to grab her juice on the way. He allows her to cuddle into his side as they sit there, and the silence now is much different than the silence of the past week. Before, it was oppressive, constantly screaming in her ear that she was alone again, the reality of it all seeping into her bones and weighing down her heart. The silence now is comfortable, the same easy ones as when they were home together.

_Home._

Emilie had never considered that there might be another place that she calls ‘home’. She’d moved from Waxahachie to Austin at nineteen, all in the name of higher education. She’d never gone outside the borders of Texas; it’s where she grew up, where she knew she would die. She would never have dreamed that Texas would feel less like home than Los Angeles. Then again, there is no uncertainty in her mind or heart that home is wherever Niall is. Niall and Ryder.

Derek  
  
**Derek:** I know you and your man are probably wanting to get back to that wholesome loving feeling thing, but wanna come over for lunch?  
**Derek:** I miss you and Ryder, and I'm pissed that Monie got to see you guys as a family again before I did   
  
**Emilie:** Too bad, so sad. Should've been working this morning!! For real, tho - I'm game for it, but lemme check with Niall first   
  
**Derek:** He back to being jelly of me?   
  
**Emilie:** LOL NO. I just don't know if he wants to do much today. I'll let you know.   


Thankfully, Niall doesn’t seem to mind the addition to their day’s plans. He just asks that they do something as a family first, just the three of them. So Emilie grabs the diaper bag, fills it with nappies and wipes and a few juice boxes, and slips a pair of flip-flops onto her feet while Niall rounds up Ryder and a handful of his favourite dinosaurs.

The park is busier than Emilie anticipates, but she doesn’t mind. Not when Ryder looks so happy to be able to play with kids his age, not with Niall so close by, not with the heat and sunshine and everything that feels so right. She leads her boyfriend to a bench in the shade of a large tree, and they watch Ryder chasing the other children. Holding hands with someone has never before felt like such unbreakable promises of forever.

Lunch at Derek’s starts off rather awkward. Derek does what he can to make Niall feel more at ease, but there is nothing that can stop Emilie from noticing how uncomfortable Niall looks as they sit around the table. Derek catches her eye, gesturing to Niall with his chin, and Emilie stifles a sigh. Leaning over, she rests her hand on Niall’s knee under the table.

“Hey, come with me.”

Niall frowns at her, but she cuts her gaze to Ryder in lieu of replying. He seems to get the point, standing when she does, and follows her to the bedroom down the hall. Emilie closes the door behind them then steps closer to Niall. His brow twitches as he stares down at her, though he stays quiet. It takes all of her willpower to not react on her frustration, instead forcing herself to remain calm.

“What’s wrong?” she asks quietly, and he shakes his head. “No, no. Niall, please. We’re working toward better communication, remember? So please, be honest with me.”

“Does he hate me?”

“Who, Derek? Of course not. He’s… he’s not happy about what happened, he thinks we both could’ve done a damned better job at the whole relationship thing. But he doesn’t hate you. He certainly would not have invited us over for lunch if he did.” Emilie cups his cheek with her hand, brushes her thumb along the curve of his cheekbone. “Just relax, okay?”

Niall blows out a breath and leans his head into her palm more securely, smiling slightly. “I’m being thick, aren’t I?”

“Nah, not at all. It’s understandable. Just… unnecessary. I love you.”

“I love you, too. We’d better get back before he thinks we’re defiling his bed.”

Emilie laughs and pulls Niall closer for a soft kiss. “He knows I’d never.”

The rest of the meal goes much more smoothly. Now that Niall’s been reassured that Derek doesn’t have a bounty out on his head, he is relaxed, quicker to laugh and join in on the friendly arguments, and Emilie is thankful for that. She doesn’t know if she could have handled any more stilted conversations. When Derek brings up Emilie going to a Halloween party dressed in her high school cheerleading uniform, though, she almost wishes for the quiet awkwardness.

The river stretches toward the horizon, glittering with sunlight and dotted with kayakers. The heat of the day has beckoned for families to leave their homes, joggers to take their runs on the trails all around. Emilie makes sure Ryder is protected from the sun by the pram’s awning then draws in a deep breath. Earth and water, food trucks and restaurants that line the pavements of downtown... She’s missed this.

“An’ Em, look! Boats!”

“Yeah, baby. People like water.”

“We go?”

“Nah, Auntie Emilie doesn’t do large bodies of water.”

“You don’t?” Niall questions, staring at her with brows drawn tightly together.

Emilie shakes her head vehemently. “No. No, I do not. I, uh, I have this phobia of - not so much drowning, really. I just don’t go in any body of water past where I can see the bottom.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Now you do.” She smiles and nudges him with her shoulder. “I... I really did miss you. A lot. At the risk of sounding super-dramatic, I think I could’ve died from how much.”

Niall lets out a soft laugh, loops his arm over her shoulders, and kisses her temple. “I’m just glad we’re both fighting for us.”

“So am I.”

> _well even after almost 2 weeks of not seeing her around in la, looks like our favorite dumb blond didn’t learn his lesson and run far away. he was spotted in austin tx with her and her kid, and who else is disappointed that he didn’t come to his damn senses???? guess it’s true. even your faves let you down. _

Emilie snorts as she rereads the post. She does have to admit that the photos attached show a much happier picture of their little family - it shows the new truth, the reality she’s strived for over the last few months. She closes out of her browser and sets her phone aside, sliding further down between the sheets. Niall is barely awake now, but he reaches for her and lets his fingers splay across her bare belly. She shivers at the warmth of his touch and laces their fingers together.

_This must be what forever feels like_, she thinks as she watches her boyfriend’s lashes flutter against his cheekbones, lips parting as he drifts off to sleep. The afternoon and evening and night had all been perfect, spent together and in love and so happy. Her mind whispers a question of what she would have done if Niall had never chased after her, but she brushes it aside. Doubts are what got her into this mess in the first place. They have no home here any longer.

And she’ll be damned if she lets them ever control her life again.


	56. fifty-six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update to make up for the lack of updates next week. and i made sure it was more of a cutesy thing before we really delve into the aftermath of the past few chapters!

Emilie rolls her eyes when Niall shifts in the passenger seat for the third time in less than twenty minutes. He’s been patient for most of the drive so far, but it is incredibly clear that his patience is reaching its end. She glances in the rear-view, finds Ryder asleep in his seat.

“Are we -“

“I swear, if you ask if we’re almost there, I will leave you on the side of the highway.”

“Sorry.”

Emilie sighs and checks to see if it’s clear to change lanes. “No, don’t be. I’m just crabby right now.”

“I told you to get something other than just coffee for breakfast,” he reminds her gently, laughing when all she does is give him a halfhearted glare.

Ten minutes later, Emilie comes to a stop outside the long, white house. The curtains shift in the front window, and she bites back a smile. Of course their arrival has been noticed. Niall stares through his window at the house, and Emilie frowns at how his hands start shaking slightly in his lap. She reaches over, rests her hand on his.

“Hey, deep breath. It’s gonna be okay.”

“I know.”

“You’ve met Mom and Daddy. They weren’t that bad, right? Well, there’s nothing to worry about with Mama. Most she might do is pester you into eating more than your belly can hold.” Her lips twitch when he catches her eye. “Trust?”

And god, saying that to Niall fills her with something she can’t describe. “Trust” has been a thing between her and Ryder since he learnt to talk - before, actually. So to include Niall in it... She wonders, as she stares at the man she fell in love with and always will be, why it’s taken so long for her to do it. She wonders why she’s taken so long for a lot of things when it comes to him.

His eyes widen infinitesimally, then he’s grinning, wide and bright. He leans over the centre console to brush a kiss to her lips, whispering, “Trust, forever and ever.”

Thoughts race like shadows in her mind; Emilie can’t catch hold of any of them, but they don’t scare her. They don’t hold the pain and doubts and fears from only a few days ago. They’re painted with promises, galaxies and discoveries floating in free-fall within her veins. They sing songs of praise and hope, worship of the man who has so effortlessly stolen her love and given her so much in return.

Paige throws open the front door as Niall and Emilie approach, Ryder held securely in his aunt’s arms. Thankfully, Paige is completely ready to accept a squirming, screeching toddler, so Emilie passes him off to his grandmother and turns to take the diaper bag from Niall. He follows her into the house, closing the door once he’s over the threshold.

Emilie sets the bag on the floor against the wall while sliding her flip-flops off her feet. Paige and Ryder have already disappeared into one of the bedrooms, most likely so the toddler can dig into the bin of toys that Paige keeps around for the grandchildren. Emilie cups Niall’s cheek, brushes a kiss to his lips, then moves away.

“Hey, Mama, I’m stealin’ a soda!” Emilie calls out as she makes her way to the kitchen.

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You want anything, babe?”

Niall shakes his head and stares around the living room, at the photographs that cover the walls. “I’m okay. This is Danielle?”

Emilie nods when she sees he’s examining the graduation photo of her stepsister. She grabs a Diet Pepsi from the fridge, pops the tab, and takes a drink so she doesn’t have to speak. She’d forgotten, in the excitement of seeing her Mama again, that the house would be full of reminders of the woman who abandoned her own child. Sighing, she sets the can on the table and moves to stand next to her boyfriend.

“Yep. That’s her before she fell so hard.”

“She looks happy.”

And Danielle does. The smile on her face is real, eyes clear and bright, and there are no signs of what was to come for that eighteen-year-old in only twenty short months. University certainly wasn’t a good time for Danielle, and it’s only lead to where she is now. Emilie swallows thickly then turns away from the photograph.

“Okay, Ryder’s playin’ in the other room, so come give me a hug.”

Paige’s embrace is just as warm as Emilie remembers it ever being. She melts into the strength and comfort, Comfort, smiling as something settles into place in her chest. She’s missed Paige so much, has relied on the woman throughout most of her life. The only downfall to living in LA is that she can’t just get in her car and drive for a couple of hours. Emilie is just thankful that today could happen.

“Oh, uh, this is Niall. Be nice to him, Mama. Niall, this is Paige.”

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Niall,” Paige says with a soft smile - and Emilie knows that her stepmother means it. “Emma and Ryder talk about you all the time.”

Niall grins and shakes Paige’s hand. “Same about you. I feel like I already know you.”

“I’m just sorry it’s taken us so long to meet in person. I really wanted to be there for Emma’s birthday.”

Emilie walks away to let them talk, to get to know each other without her encroaching. Ryder barely looks away from the Hot Wheels in front of him, and she sits on the floor next to him. He passes over a baby-blue Mustang and makes vrooming noises as he pushes the monster truck across the floor. This is the peace she's craved for so long, but the doubts are still here.

She wonders if he’s really, truly healed up from the separation or if he’s already learnt how to hide the pain he feels. He may not even be three yet, but Ryder has had so much heartbreak in his life already. Emilie is most proud of how loving and kind he is, though, even with everything he’s gone through.

Leaning over, she brushes her lips to his hair. “I love you, baby boy.”

“Love you rainbow.”

“Yep, that’s exactly right. Love you more than the rainbow.”

The rest of the day passes easily and quickly. Emilie spends another half-hour playing with the toddler, then goes back out to the living room to talk with her boyfriend and stepmother. Most of the conversation revolves around Niall and his career, his life before Emilie and Ryder came barrelling into it. Before he made Emilie fall so far in love with him, no one else will ever compare.

Ryder eventually gets bored of the toys and joins the adults with a book in hand, and Emilie can see the adoration on Paige’s face as the child climbs up into Niall’s lap. Despite obviously knowing both women are watching him closely, Niall doesn’t falter; he just opens the book to the first page and starts reading about a velveteen rabbit with Ryder’s head tucked securely against his chest.

Around four-thirty, Emilie kisses Niall’s cheek then rises to her feet. Paige follows suit, trailing after Emilie as she begins rifling through the cupboards in search of ideas for dinner.

“Emilie Taylor, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Makin’ dinner.”

“No, you’re not. Just come sit down and relax.”

Emilie gently pushes Paige from the kitchen, laughing as her stepmother protests. “Mama, please. Go enjoy time with your grandson.”

“Why can’t we just order pizza like a normal family?”

“Do you even listen to yourself, woman? We’ve never been normal. Now go!”

“Fine. If you insist. Just know that I cannot be blamed if your boyfriend finds the photo albums in the trunk in the guest bedroom," Paige warns, her voice louder toward the end of her statement.

“Gee, Mama, I don’t think Niall heard you.” Emilie gasps, clapping a hand over her mouth. “No, Niall, don’t you dare!”

“Too late!” comes his cheeky response, and Emilie wilts, groaning.

“Fantastic. At least tell me you got rid of my high school pictures?”

Paige pats her shoulder with a soft smile, though it does little to reassure Emilie. “Of course I didn’t, sweetheart. What kind of mama would I be if I had?”

“_Mama_!”

But Paige is gone. Emilie stands by the island counter and stares after her mama. Well, Niall _did_ say he wanted to see what she looked like in her cheerleading uniform. Sighing, Emilie turns back to the stove. She should probably focus on cooking dinner like she promised instead of the embarrassing stories Paige is going to tell Niall.

She can’t say that she’s actually upset, though. Emilie has heard loads about Niall’s childhood through Mully and himself, but neither man has knowledge of Emilie’s not-so-fine moments. She’s told them some of the less mortifying memories she has, just... not everything. It’s only fair, she supposes.

Besides, it’s a rite of passage in a relationship - to be regaled with tales of your partner’s life before the relationship started. Emilie has gotten lucky in that it took a year for this moment to come. Rose and Jackson hadn’t had much opportunity to remember and compile all the embarrassing memories. Paige has had more time to prepare the juicier stories, however, and Emilie can only imagine what her stepmother is telling Niall right now.

Emilie sighs as she slides the tray of chicken into the oven. All she can hope is that nothing of what Paige says will make Niall run in the opposite direction. Losing him because of her idiocy in the past is a worse prospect than losing him due to her stubbornness, and this is a relationship she’s learnt to cherish.


	57. fifty-seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> was this chapter basically an excuse for some smut? yes, yes, it was. am i ashamed? probably not as much as i should be. enjoy~ 

Emilie watches as Niall unpacks Ryder’s clothes from the suitcase, folding them before carefully placing them into the drawers. Ryder toddles around the room and chatters as he picks up his toys, though he regularly looks over as if to make sure the adults are still in the room. As if he’s afraid of them being gone the next time he looks for them.

She can’t stop thinking about what Paige said before they left early yesterday morning, though Paige certainly meant nothing negative by it. The simple “I really hope you two can be happy again.” Her stepmother’s words repeat on a loop through her mind, and Emilie questions - _Why_.

Why did Niall tell Paige about the separation? Why would he do something like that, knowing that Paige would rightfully tell Rose and Jackson? Emilie doesn’t even want to know how her father would react if he knew. Rose is easier to predict, but Jackson… He’s a different story.

He has faith in his daughter, that she can protect herself. He’s always told her so, and Emilie has never doubted that he trusts and supports any decision she makes. But she’s concerned that this might be different. That Jackson won’t hesitate to punish Niall for hurting her.

No matter that she caused the issue, too.

“Are you all right, petal?”

Emilie jerks to attention at Niall’s hesitant question, nodding quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just doin’ some thinkin’, ‘s’all.”

“Ooh, your accent is coming out. You must be tired.”

“Shush, mister. But yes, I am tired.”

He stands, crossing the room quickly, and stretches out a hand toward her. She takes it with a smile, follows him across the hall to their bedroom. Emilie can’t deny how wonderful it is to be home again. Even with the empty spaces in the closet, she is _home_. She drops to sit on the bed and chews on her lower lip as Niall heads to the chest of drawers.

“I think I’m gonna tell Daddy he can stop payin’ on the flat.”

“Why?” he asks quietly, pausing in the middle of pulling out her favourite sleep-shirt.

“I, uh, I don’t think I’ll need it any more, y’know? I mean, we’re back together, we’re back _here_. So why keep it?”

Niall blows out a breath and comes to sit next to her. “Monica explained it as him wanting us to have a place to stay whenever we go visit.”

“When’d you talk to Monie?”

“How do you think I got to your flat from the airport?” he retorts, and Emilie’s jaw drops.

She hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t tried to figure out how he got halfway across the city. She honestly just assumed he took an Uber or something. Yawning widely, she lets the conversation die out and flops backwards to lie across the mattress. She hadn’t been lying - she _is_ tired, worn out from the drive and having to say goodbye to her friends and Paige again.

Monica and Derek had been thrilled to see her go, but as happy as she is to be home again, the doubts have started creeping in once more. She worries that this is just a bandaid slapped over a wound that won’t ever fully heal. She knows that this is going to take a lot of work, and she can’t help but fear that things will end up reverting to how they were before she left. All she can do is put forth the effort to make sure it doesn’t.

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll get Ryder in bed then join you.”

Emilie groans, covering her face with her hands. “No, I’m tired of sleeping without you.”

“I _am_ pretty amazing to sleep with,” he laughs, brushing a kiss to her forehead. Niall stares down at the bedspread, fidgets slightly. “Would you be against him sleeping in our bed tonight?”

“I thought it was a forgone conclusion, honestly,” she admits on a quiet laugh.

His laughter follows him out of the room, and Emilie busies herself with pulling back the blankets. By the time Niall is back, Ryder in his arms, she has already slid in between the sheets and is scrolling aimlessly through Instagram. She double-taps on the photo Monica posted of her nephews sitting patiently while her sister paints their nails, then sets her phone on its charging stand.

Ryder snuggles into Emilie’s side, smiling brightly up at her. She leans down to kiss his forehead, then he rolls over for attention from Niall. Giggling, she reaches across the toddler to lace her fingers with her boyfriend’s.

“I love the both'a ya.”

Niall chuckles, runs a hand over Ryder’s hair. “Ry, do me a favour. Tell Auntie Emilie to go to sleep.”

“Go s’eep, An’ Em,” Ryder parrots dutifully.

All Emilie can do is shake her head at the ridiculous antics of her two loves teaming up against her. She settles further into the mattress and lifts her arm so Ryder can scoot even closer. With Niall still holding her hand and Ryder’s warm breath puffing against her skin, she feels like she can breathe properly. She closes her eyes and falls asleep with every roughened piece instead of her slotting into place.

Morning comes too quickly. One second, she’s dreaming of flying over the world on a glittering unicorn, watching over everyone she loves as they live their lives. The next, she’s waking to someone shifting in the bed next to her. Groaning, Emilie buries her face into her pillow and tugs the blankets over her head. A warm hand brushes against her cheek, and she sighs but doesn’t open her eyes.

“We’ve all day to ourselves.”

“What?” She lifts herself onto one elbow, sleep dissipating from her mind in a instant at Niall’s words. “What do you mean? Where’s Ryder?”

“Took him to Louis’s for the play-date you postponed. He said he’d watch him as long as we need so we can have some time to just... be a couple.”

“Ni...”

“We deserve this, don’t we? And wasn’t one of our problems not spending enough time together, just us?”

He isn’t wrong. At all. So she drops back down and scrubs a hand over her face. Niall knows he’s won, that much is clear, and Emilie barely has the willpower to stop him from kissing her. She manages it, though it is with immeasurable strength, and he rolls his eyes but doesn’t stop her from climbing out of bed. Once her teeth are sufficiently scrubbed, she sets her toothbrush into the holder and stares at her reflection in the mirror.

Nothing remains of the haunting darkness, the loneliness that stained her face during the separation. Now, all that is there is the peace that Niall brings to her life. She chews on her lower lip then glances back through the door.

Niall is watching her closely, smiling softly from the bed, and something tightens in her gut. His brows furrow as she reaches for the hem of her shirt, and Emilie tugs the fabric up over her head and lets it fall to the floor. A laugh bubbles up out of her when she sees that Niall’s jaw has dropped, then he’s scrambling off the bed.

Emilie turns the shower on, not bothering to wait for the water to warm before stepping under the spray. Her skin ripples with goosebumps, and she shivers even as she reaches for the shampoo. Niall is close behind; he has stripped with efficiency and crowds her against the wall, leaves a searing kiss to her lips. The bottle falls from her hand as she wraps her arms around his shoulders.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmurs into the kiss, and his hands skim along her side to rest heavily on her hips. “God, I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

Words become scarce, no longer needed as Niall speaks volumes with the way he kisses her. His touch stokes the flames that lick away at her soul. Emilie has anticipated this - the first time being together like this after the separation - since the night he showed up in Austin, but she hadn’t expected it to feel so new.

Heat and desire burn through her, and her fingernails press into his skin as she loses herself in the taste on her tongue. She gasps when his thumb digs almost painfully into her waist, his other hand dragging along her skin between them and a finger slipping into her.

“Ni-Niall, please.” She whimpers as he steps impossibly closer, his body a solid wall of heat along her front; the heel of his palm is firm, shifting just enough, on her clit. “Please…”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart, just tell me, and it’s yours.”

Emilie shoves her hips downward onto his hand, but it isn’t enough. It’ll never be enough. A litany of pleas falls from her lips, a chorus of begging for more. He chuckles darkly and hooks his finger forward. By the time he removes his hand, Emilie is scarcely able to breathe.

Her heart races, blood buzzing in her veins, and she could cry with how empty she feels. She wraps a leg around his waist, mind blanking out at the electric lust rips through her when his cock brushes against her core. His hand curves under her thigh, holds her knee to his ribs, and she cries out as he slides into her.

Home. Security. Love.

Everything she’s ever had with him echoes in her mind as he sets a pace that’s just this side of too rough.

She wants this to last, to relish the sensation of being filled over and over. Even though her back aches from the cold wall behind her, this is nearly perfect. It’s what she has needed. He kisses the tears from her cheeks, mouth painting her flesh with butterfly-soft kisses. His teeth scrape against the column of her throat, and she bursts into fragments of light and want and devotion to this man.

His thrusts slow as her orgasm crashes over her, and she pants heavily and ignores the way her entire body twitches and shudders. Emilie breathes out an order for him not to stop, keep going, _please_, and Niall nods shakily.

She can feel the way he trembles - from exertion or want, she isn’t sure, but she needs him to be as satisfied as she is. He buries his face into her neck, breaths coming fast and hard, and he shoves himself into her as much as he can. Emilie cards her fingers into his hair, tugging lightly on the strands.

“Come for me, baby,” she whispers before covering his mouth with hers, and that’s all it takes.

He moans as his movements grow unsteady, jerky, then with a grunt, he spills inside of her. He fucks her through the high, each thrust more and more gentle. Emilie’s legs are numb, unstable, when he releases her, and her head spins, the world tilting wildly around her. She pats his chest clumsily and gives him a wobbly smile.

“That’ll do.”

He gapes at her for a split second before laughing in surprise. “You’re so rude.”

“You love me anyway.” She presses a soft kiss to his lips. “And I love you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I came in here to take a shower, and you got in my way of completing that task.”


	58. fifty-eight.

Late-afternoon sunlight spills through the room, illuminates everything in yellow-white, and Emilie adjusts the tie on her robe before picking up her cup of coffee. Her entire body aches in the most pleasant of ways, and she is completely spent.

After the shower, she and Niall had gone back to bed, only to continue the activities again. And a third time only forty-five minutes ago. It had been a wonderful way of spending the day, but the intimacy was purely physical. She can’t ignore the voice in her head that says this is exactly the routine they were in before.

She stands at the door to the patio, stares out over the backyard, and sighs heavily. Niall has never left her unsatisfied in bed. That’s never, ever been a thing. She expected it, especially back in the beginning, but he’s done everything he could to make sure she was sated before seeking out his own happy ending.

The lack of communication, though… _that_ has been the problem.

And she doesn’t want it to be any more.

“Everything okay?”

Emilie turns, forces a smile in Niall’s direction. “Yeah. Actually… no.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks quietly, padding up behind her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Are we falling back into the same patterns as before?”

“What do you mean?”

“We haven’t really talked.”

He sighs softly and rests his cheek against her hair. “We haven’t. I guess we just got caught up in other things.”

“We did. Very, _very_ good things.” She huffs out a laugh when he nods vigorously. “So what do you say we go pick up Ryder, have dinner as a family, and then tonight, you and I will do a lot more talking?”

“That sounds like a plan, though I vote for more of the _other_ kind of talking, too. That means you’ll have to go get dressed,” he reminds her when she doesn’t move, and she nudges him with her elbow.

Emilie presses a kiss to his lips, grinning up at him before heading toward the stairs. To her surprise, Niall doesn’t follow after her, but that’s okay. She can’t be getting distracted again. As she drapes her robe over the end of the bed, she lets out a slow breath then makes her way to the closet. Something in the back of her mind isn’t settling right.

It isn’t until she’s pulled a lilac-coloured sundress on over her underwear that she realises what it is: This is what she’s wanted for so long. Even when she tried to pretend otherwise, she craved a loving relationship, one in which she could be herself and be accepted - flaws and all. Her parents may not be shining examples of successful marriages, but she’s used that as a marker, a goal to strive towards, a path to avoid taking.

And now she’s happier than she could ever imagined. She has amazing friends; even when they’re blunt, Derek and Monica have never steered her wrong, and they’ve been there through so much. Her parents are wonderful, always offering a listening ear and advice and their presence. She even loves her job, though it’s hard not to.

Most of all, though, she has the most fantastic, caring, generous man waiting for her downstairs, so they can pick up the kid they’re effectively raising together. A child that’s not theirs but is. Emilie’s heart has never been so full, and she could drown in the peace that comes with knowing that she has her support system, a circle of love that has no end.

Picking up Ryder is an adventure. Louis is on a call, so he barely waves hello to Emilie and Niall when they step inside his house. He ends up having to go to the other room because Ryder won’t stop running around, screeching at the top of his lungs no matter how many times he is reminded to use his indoor voice. Emilie’s face grows hot, her stomach churning, but Niall acts as if it’s just another day as he scoops the toddler up into his arms and murmurs something quietly.

They cook dinner as a family, with Niall at the stove and Emilie and Ryder as the taste-testers. The domesticity of it all is heartwarming, makes Emilie long for things to remain this way forever. He’s so gentle with the child, easily keeping Ryder from getting too close to the hot burners, blowing on a green bean to cool it before passing it off to Ryder. Everything feels like it’s finally settled into place.

“He did _not_ want to go to sleep,” Niall complains as he drops facedown onto the bed, and Emilie stifles a giggle. “This isn’t funny. Seven songs. I sang _seven songs_ to him before he finally closed his eyes.”

Emilie shrugs and sets her journal aside. “He’s missed his Ni-Ni. Y’know, this is the first time you’ve complained about anything since we got back.”

“Because I’m too glad you two are back home to be unhappy.”

“Ugh, you’re too cute. C’mere, I wanna cuddle.”

Niall laughs but does as she demands. True to her word, she cuddles into his side and sighs heavily. He may be glad they’re home again, but he’ll never be as happy as she is.

“You don’t think I’m with you just for your money, do you?” she asks quietly, picking at a hangnail on her index finger.

Niall pushes himself up onto his elbows, stares at her with a frown tugging at his lips, and Emilie pulls away. She avoids meeting his gaze; she never thought to ask him before, always figured that he knows why she began a relationship with him, but the blogger’s assumptions have weighed heavily on her mind lately. Emilie isn’t sure which answer would be worse.

If he says he knows his fame and wealth isn’t the reason, then she’s taking the risk of putting that doubt in his mind. But if he admits that it’s crossed his mind, then why is he dating her? Why does he love her? That kind of fear can’t be easily dissuaded, so is he just waiting for her to come clean so he can leave her?

“Where’s this coming from?”

It isn’t what she wants to hear, but Emilie knows this is probably the best response she could have expected - neither accusatory nor invalidating. She sits up and brings her knees to her chest, staring down at her toenails.

“There’s a blog on tumblr that I, uh, I’ve been checking on.”

“Okay, firstly, there’s your problem. You’re letting other people put crazy thoughts in your head.” Niall reaches for her, and his hand is so gentle as it runs down her back. “If I ever, even for a second, thought you were only after the things I could give you and Ryder, I wouldn’t be with you.”

“You didn’t think that, even in the beginning?”

Niall chuckles, tugging her into his side, and Emilie relaxes as he begins twirling the end of her hair between his fingers. “I’ll admit, it was a small doubt when we first met, but then you seemed genuinely surprised when you found out I’m a musician. I’ve never quite understood how you’ve never heard of One Direction, though.”

She shakes her head with a soft giggle. “First off, I said I didn’t _listen_ to One Direction, not that I’d never heard of them. You know my musical tastes. If it isn’t country or music from the 70s and 80s, I didn’t really listen to it.”

“In any case…” Niall brushes her hair from her face, kisses her forehead. “I don’t doubt your feelings for me, no matter what some lonely soul on tumblr thinks. It took you a year to say that you love me. If you’d wanted my money, you would’ve said it as soon as possible. Unless you’re really good at the long con?”

“Of course I’m not. You know I’m awful with secrets.”

“Yeah, you’re probably worse than Ryder when it comes to keeping secrets.”

“That’s, that’s not true! You’re being incredibly rude, sir.”

But she’s laughing, a lightweight warmth filling her bones. He smirks at having lifted her spirits, and Emilie doesn’t even mind the gloating. Not when he seems so peaceful, so happy, to be here with her.

As she gazes up at him, she watches the amusement fade from his face. Something in his expression shifts, turns more serious, and her heart races as she tries to figure out what he could possibly be thinking. Fear coats her tongue and floods her chest, acidic and harsh, and her breathing grows harder to control.

“Do… do you want to get married?”

The world stands still for a split second - his words reach her through the vast distance, muffled by the blood roaring in her ears. She thinks she’s misheard him. She must have, because that’s not anything she expected to hear.

“What?”

“Marriage. What’s your opinion on it?”

“I-I don’t - what?” Her brain catches up, registers what he’s saying and implying, and Emilie pushes away from him. “Are you asking me to marry you?”

“No. I mean, I guess I am, but for the future. I’m not saying we need to run off to the nearest chapel right this second. I just, I wanted to figure out where we were headed.”

“Niall…” Emilie scrubs over her face with her hands, aching when he doesn’t reach out to touch her. “I, I haven’t really thought about it. I love you, though, no matter what happens. Is, um, is not getting married a deal-breaker for you?”

“I want it,” he whispers after a long minute, and Emilie could cry with the trepidation in his eyes, the hesitation in his voice. As it is, she can’t stop the tears from forming.

“Niall, please understand. I watched my parents’ marriages fail, so I’m always going to be a little scared of that particular step.”

“I know, love, I understand that. But marriage is, it’s important to me.” He shakes his head but doesn’t meet her eye. “I don’t want to lose you, not again, but I can’t just accept that I’m not going to get that.”

“So… what does this mean?”

Niall sighs, scratches at his jaw. “It means we should figure something out, or…”

He trails off, but he doesn’t need to speak the words. Doesn’t need to put them out there for her to hear. She already comprehends the implication fully: If they don’t agree on something as large and life-changing as marriage, then what’s the point in staying together? It would be best if they split up permanently before the relationship goes on any longer.

She swallows thickly, and her voice trembles as she asks, “What about kids? Are those nonnegotiable, too?”

“That, I’m a bit more flexible on. I’d like to have children of my own one day, but it isn’t a requirement for our relationship to work. What about you? Is having kids a deal-breaker?”

“I used to want them, in that abstract way, but then Danielle had Ryder. He became my whole world, even though he wasn’t really mine, and... I dunno, I just saw what pregnancy actually _did_ to her body and mental health, and I was forced to be a mother before I was ready.”

Niall nods slowly, and Emilie blows out a breath, hesitating before moving to curl into his side. Thankfully, he holds her tightly, no sign of annoyance in the way he allows her to cling to him. She hopes that he understands her misgivings about marriage has little to do with him and everything to do with the fact that it isn’t something she really allowed herself to want.

But as she lies there, pressed comfortably to his side, she decides to finally let herself consider the possibility.

After all, would it really be so bad to be his wife?


	59. fifty-nine.

Monday morning is a hectic mess. Everything goes perfectly, smoothly, surpassing even Emilie’s wildest expectations. She fully anticipated having to struggle with getting Ryder ready, but he does what he’s told, allows her to dress him and get his shoes on, without fuss. It’s her own inhibitions that make things feel so off-kilter.

Niall left before her alarm went off, leaving her in bed with a searing kiss to her lips and a promise to call and text as often as he’s able. She’d watched him go, smiling to herself the entire time, because this was different. This was all she’d wanted before she left for Austin, and now she has it.

When Emilie and Ryder arrive at Tiny Tots Nursery around eight, Desiree actually comes out of her office to hug Emilie tightly.

“Uh…”

“I was hoping you meant it when you texted that you were coming back, but you haven’t said a word to me since then, so I wasn’t entirely sure you hadn’t changed your mind.” Desiree steps back, grinning. “Josh is going to be thrilled you’re back. Now go, before Gloria comes hunting you down.”

Emilie forces a smile and turns to the door leading to the back. Her mind repeats Desiree’s words on a loop, but no amount of hearing them will make them make sense. Why would Josh care that much whether Emilie stays away or comes home? Sure, he’s become one of her closest work friends in the last six months, but it isn’t like they hung out outside of Tiny Tots.

“Hey, hey! Little man is _back_!” Josh crouches down and holds a hand up for a high-five, cheering when Ryder complies. “All right, bud, you remember where your cubby is, yeah? Good, go get your book while I talk to your auntie.”

“Hey, wait. Ry, where’s my hug goodbye?”

But Ryder doesn’t come back,; instead, he toddles over to the wall of cubbies, giggling and shouting a “Bye-bye!” over his shoulder. Emilie shakes her head, though she can’t help but laugh. It is such a change from his first day here, and she is rather enjoying not having him cling to her any more. Josh waits until the kids are distracted with toys and books before turning to her,

“I see you’ve come back,”

“Yeah.” Chewing on her lower lip, she hesitates then admits, “We needed a break.”

“Sometimes, someone leaving is the only way to make you open your eyes.”

“It sucked.”

“Oh, god, I understand perfectly.”

When Emilie shoots him an inquisitive look, he shrugs and promises to explain later. She takes that as her cue to go across the hall to her own room, so she double-checks that Ryder is okay then leaves. The weight of Josh’s gaze follows her, heavy on her back.

There are seven text messages waiting by the time she checks her phone around noon, each of them either a selfie or some variation of Niall declaring he misses her and Ryder. She hates that she hasn’t had time to reply, but she knows he understands. Smiling to herself, she saves each picture to her phone then closes out of her gallery to stare at her lockscreen.

“I love that photo.”

Emilie glances up at Gloria, nodding. “It was our first Thanksgiving together. We’d only been dating, I wanna say, like, four months at that point, but Ryder was crazy about him almost immediately.”

“And he was already in love with you and Ryder back then?” Gloria pats Emilie’s shoulder. “You got a good one, sweetheart, and I’m glad you two are working it out.”

“Does everyone know?” groans Emilie as she claps a hand to her forehead.

“Josh gossips worse than a teenager.”

“I’m tellin’ him you said that.”

“Honey, I say it to his face, so go ahead.”

“Gossiping aside, I’m glad to be back.”

All Gloria does in response is smile a sweet, gentle smile then move away to calm a crying seven-month-old. Emilie sends Niall a quick text, telling him she misses him and can’t wait to see him tonight, and slips her phone into her pocket. She has work to do, and upset babies wait for no one.

****

**[-_-_-_-]**

George Jones plays quietly from the phone speakers, filling the room with words of lost love, and Emilie carefully drags the eyeliner pencil across the lid of her right eye. She hadn’t been able to sleep past six-thirty this morning, waking even before Niall, she decided to get an early start to her morning routine. Glancing back into the bedroom, she isn’t surprised to see her boyfriend still sprawled across the bed.

He hadn’t asked if she thought any more about what he said on Sunday, and she hadn’t offered information. Truth be told, she is still unsure. The more she gives consideration to the possibility of marrying him, the more mixed-up she gets. She wants to have an answer for him, wants to tell him yes without hesitation. She just… can’t.

Sighing, she starts working on her left eye. Pandora switches to the next song - some love ballad by Alan Jackson - and Emilie can’t help but smile. Paige’s favourite singer has been Alan for as long as Emilie can remember, and hearing his voice, the southern twang to his words, brings up memories of the years she spent bouncing between home with her mother and home with her stepmother and father.

Those were simpler times, really. Even with the typical squabbles with Danielle, Emilie was always mostly happy. Neither Rose nor Jackson spoke ill of each other in front of Emilie, and Paige was incredibly determined to prove that she wasn’t aiming to take Rose’s place as Emilie’s mother. Emilie is certain that if her parents weren’t the way they were, she wouldn’t have turned out to be the way she is, she never would have known what love could be.

“Hey, love, don’t wait up tonight.”

Emilie shrieks, hand jerking to the side - and leaving behind a long tail of black liner in its wake. She drops the pencil to the countertop and clutches at her chest. Her heart is pounding fit to burst from her ribs, and she can barely breathe through the shock.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“You ass! Oh, my god, my heart is gonna explode.”

Niall ducks his head, murmuring another apology. Emilie pulls a makeup-remover wipe from the packet, scrubs away the line from eyelid to temple, turn turns to face her boyfriend. The contrition on his face is too hard to handle, so she smiles as genuinely as she can with an elevated heart-rate and fear coursing through her veins.

“So. Not waiting up tonight?”

“Right. I got inspired for that song I told you about, the one the album was missing, and I want to get it done today.”

“Okay. I’ll try to remember.” She pauses. “Gonna gimme a clue what it’s about?”

Niall grins and presses a kiss to her lips. “Nope. You’ll hear it when the rest of the world does. Have a good day at work, babe. I love you.”

“I reiterate. You’re an ass. I love you, too. Enjoy your time in the studio.”

Another kiss, then he’s gone. Emilie giggles quietly to herself and turns back to the mirror. As she stares at her reflection, she wonders if it’s a trick of the light, or if her dark eyes are really shining that brightly. She chews on her bottom lip and blows out a breath, reaching for the wipe. Today seems like a good day to go au naturale. Her hands are shaking too much still to have faith in a steady application of eyeliner.

Mully disappears up the stairs as soon as she and Ryder come in through the front door later that afternoon. Emilie doesn’t think much of it - maybe he’s on an important call, or he possibly had a rough day. It certainly isn’t the first time he’s hidden away instead of spending time with her. But when he doesn’t come down for dinner, refuses to answer his door when she knocks… It tells her something isn’t quite right.

Emilie blows out a breath of relief when Ryder’s eyes slip closed - and stay that way. She’d feared that without Niall here, the toddler wouldn’t want to fall asleep, especially so close to the separation. But her luck seems to have held out. Kissing Ryder’s cheek as softly as she can, Emilie waits then tiptoes from the room.

To her surprise, Mully is in the kitchen when she steps off the stairs. He glances over his shoulder at the sound of her shuffling footsteps, face closing off when he catches sight of her, then turns pointedly away. Emilie’s breath hitches in her throat, and a wave of cold crashes over her.

“So, you wanna explain why you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“God, you can’t even lie good.” Emilie shakes her head, folds her arms over her stomach. “You ain’t said a damn word to me since we got back unless Niall was around, and now that he’s not here, you suddenly seem to have miraculously lost the ability to speak.”

“Just leave it alone, Emilie,” he spits out, and his shoulders tighten before her eyes.

“No! You’ve been... cold, and I want to know why.”

“Because what you did was _wrong_.” He finally faces her, though Emilie wishes he hadn’t. On his face is a mask of anger and, worse, distrust. “You should have talked to him, Emilie. But no, you waited until he was gone and couldn’t stop you. And you left. You ran, and-and you took his kid with you! How could you possibly have thought that was the right thing to do?”

“I fucking know, okay?”

Silence reigns deafeningly in the room, and Mully stares at her with wide eyes. Her heart is racing under her ribs, a rapid-fire beat that roars in her blood. Blowing out a breath, she scrubs a hand over her face and hopes she hasn’t woken Ryder by shouting. No sounds come from upstairs, so she continues.

“Look, I know I handled the situation so poorly. You’re right. I should’ve told him how I was feeling, but damn it, I don’t need my mistakes shoved in my face like this.”

“You just... you left without a word to him or me. To anybody.”

“Christ on a cheesecake, Mully, I know this. I know how close I came to losing Niall for good. I thought I was okay with that. I thought all I needed was some time, and I could go back to my life before I met him. But being away from him showed me that I’m not. Niall and me, we’re working on it. On _us_. And I get it. He’s your best friend, and you want to protect him.”

“Damn right. Wouldn’t you do the same for Monica or Derek?”

“Of course I would. But if I saw them with their partner, actively working through their problems, I’d shut the fuck up and support them. So please, just... just stop. Please.”

Mully has the decency to look properly abashed. He shifts his weight between his feet before leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, but neither of them speak for a long minute. Finally, he exhales sharply.

“I’m sorry. I do want to protect him. I told you when you two came for Christmas that I’ve never seen him fall so hard or so fast before. He didn’t even tell me you’d gone.”

Emilie takes the olive branch, relaxing her stance. “So how’d you find out?”

“You didn’t come home, and you didn’t send a text saying you were running late or hanging out with your coworkers. Then he sent me a message a few days ago saying ‘We’re coming home’.”

“You’ve been angry with me for two weeks?” Something sharp, jagged and poisonous, gnaws at her gut. “Jeez, no wonder you’ve been givin’ me the silent treatment.”

Mully hesitates but drops his arms to his sides, steps forward. Emilie melts into his tight embrace; her lips quirk into a smile when he presses a kiss to her hair.

“For what it’s worth,” he murmurs softly, “I’m glad you two are working it out. And I’m sorry I’ve been a prick.”

Emilie hugs him back just as tightly; her fingers ache as they press into his back, but she doesn’t let up. “I think it’s understandable, given the way I treated him.”

“He forgives you. I suppose I do, too.”

He pulls away only to receive a poke to his shoulder. Emilie giggles and wipes away the tears she hadn’t realised started to fall. Mully smiles softly, brushes at a stray tear she missed. Exhaling shakily, she meets his eye.

“Thank you for caring so much about him.”

“I care about you, too, Em. I’ve just cared about him longer.”

He wraps an arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward the stairs, and she hesitates before asking if his anger is why he never tried to contact her after the first couple of calls. He nods slowly and admits that if he’d tried, he would have sent something that he would never be able to take back.

“Besides, it was between you and Niall. I didn’t need to get involved.” He stops outside the door to the room she shares with his best friend, and his hand is gentle as he squeezes her shoulder. “But you’re home now, and everything is right again. Goodnight, Em.”

She watches Mully walk toward his room for a second then steps into her bedroom. Things feel more steady now, and she can breathe again. Properly. Suddenly, his words from earlier register in her mind, and Emilie darts back out into the hallway.

“Wait, ‘_his_’ kid?”

Mully freezes outside of his bedroom but doesn’t turn around, not even when he closes his door behind him. She shakes her head, though she can’t fight her smile. After checking that Ryder is still asleep, she heads back to her bedroom to prepare for bed.

She does make a mental note to talk to Niall about the whole “Ryder is his kid” thing when he comes home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **note:** since we're so close to the end of this story, i'll be putting my others on hold while i finish writing and posting these last few chapters! don't hesitate to reach out to me on [tumblr](http://unn--known.tumblr.com) if you ever wanna chat more about these characters or, well, anything!


	60. sixty.

Unfortunately, Emilie didn’t get a chance to talk to Niall that night - she’d tried her damnedest to stay awake but was fast asleep by the time he came home. She spent all of the next day fearing that Mully would tell Niall about their argument, but those worries were unfounded. There’s been no mention of the near-shouting match from Monday night, and the last two days have been relatively uneventful.

Thursday finds her on the back patio, dialling her mother’s number while she watches Ryder play in the twilight sun. Rose answers immediately, as if her psychic Mom powers alerted her to the fact that her infinite wisdom is needed. The first thing out of Emilie’s mouth is:

“He wants to get married.”

Silence echoes damningly down the line, then her mother clears her throat quietly. “He proposed?”

“Not... exactly.” Emilie sighs. “We had a talk the other night, and he wanted to know what our relationship was working towards. He said he wants marriage and stuff.”

“And what do you think?”

“I think I’m confused. I mean, a part of me is saying no, not happening ever, why can’t he be happy with our relationship as it is.”

“But another part of you is thinking maybe it ain’t so bad?”

“Exactly.”

“Honey, this is something you gotta figure out for yourself. I can sit here and tell you how amazing and terrible my marriage to your father was, and Paige could do the same. So could your daddy. But this decision is yours to make, and that can only happen if you’re honest with yourself. What are you so scared of?”

Emilie stares at Ryder, happily pushing a car across the patio without a care in the world. As much as she wishes her mother would tell her what to do, she knows Rose is right. Swallowing hard, Emilie lets out a slow breath.

“I’m scared that if we do get married and things go back to how it was, I won’t be able to leave.”

Rose hums, the sound achingly familiar from all the times Emilie sought advice when she was younger and first got her heart broken. “Em, you’ve proved you could leave once. Yes, your mama told me. But you did it. You realised you deserved better than how you felt, and you left.”

“But I went back.”

“Yes, you did, and things have been better since, right?”

“I can’t just keep running away to make things better, Mom. I can’t keep waiting for the shoe to drop, leave when it does, and hope it’s enough to change things.”

“Do you think it’s gonna happen again?”

“I didn’t think it would happen the first time,” protests Emilie as she shoves her hand through her hair, pushing to her feet to pace around.

“Emilie.”

She exhales sharply, rolls her eyes. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Then trust that you left once and you can do it again if it comes to that. Beyond that, though, trust _him_. Now tell me the plans for Ryder’s birthday this year. I wanna try to come down for it.”

She snorts quietly but admits she’s not even began to plan the party. Her life has been too hectic lately, and it’s only just now started to settle again. Unlike before, though, it isn’t nearly as lonesome, even when Niall isn’t home. They both take time for their relationship, they go to great lengths to make sure it’s worth fighting for.

Once she’s ended the call with her mother, Emilie crouches down next to Ryder, runs her hand over his hair. He grins up at her, and warmth blossoms beneath her ribs. The one thing she has never, ever doubted - not even for a second - is that he’s worth everything she has ever gone through. The sleepless nights and endless days and high fevers and snotty nose… Ryder is worth all of it.

When she wakes Friday morning, it’s to the sound of a toddler crying and calling her name. Emilie rushes out of bed before Niall can do so much as open his eyes, hurries to Ryder’s bedroom, and freezes instantly at the door. Bile creeps up her throat at the sight and smell, but she swallows it down and crosses the room to the bedside.

“Hey, baby, it’s okay. Auntie Em is here.”

“I sick,” he whimpers, holding up filthy hands so she can see.

“I know, honey, I know. And I’m sure it scared you. Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?”

As much as she doesn’t want to, Emilie scoops him up into her arms and carries him to the bathroom. Ryder sniffles as she strips his soiled clothes off of him, tosses them to the side, and she presses her lips to his forehead. His skin is warm but not alarmingly so. She smiles as comfortingly as she can.

“Bath time for sick little boys.”

All he does is nod and raise a hand to scrub at his face. Emilie yelps, tugs his fist away, and his lower lip wobbles. Whispering an apology, she holds him close and reaches for the tap. He sighs heavily, the sour odour of vomit floating in the air between them, and her stomach churns violently.

“What happened?”

She glances up from where she’s sat in the bottom of the tub, Ryder clinging tightly to her, and opens her mouth to answer Niall’s question. Anything that might make this less... odd. All she can do, though, is shrug helplessly.

“He threw up and is now doing his best impression of a spider monkey. So we’re taking a bath together.”

“You’re -“

“Dressed, yes, I know. As I said, spider monkey.”

“Ni-Ni, I sick.”

“I can see that, bud. How about we let Auntie Emilie go take her own shower, though? She has to go to work today.”

“I was gonna call off,” she says quietly, and Niall frowns.

“I can take care of him.”

“I - Niall, I know this. I trust that you can take care of him. But he’s sick. I hate being away from him when he’s feeling poorly. Besides, Desiree will understand.”

“If you really want to, go ahead.”

Something on his face tells Emilie that Niall isn’t quite so reassured about her faith in him. Her gut lurches sharply, and she swallows down another refusal to go to work. Kissing Ryder’s damp hair, she carefully pries the toddler’s arms from around her neck and sets him down on his feet.

“Be good for Ni-Ni, okay? Auntie Emilie will be back home as soon as she can.”

He whines but lets Niall take over on clean-up duty. Emilie hesitates for a second, just long enough to watch Ryder trying to climb onto Niall, then she heads to the other bathroom for a shower. Thankfully, her body wash does its job of getting the smell of vomit out of her skin.

Unfortunately, her plans of rushing home immediately after her shift is over get derailed by a very exuberant Annie. It takes ten minutes, and an encouraging text from Niall, but Emilie agrees that maybe a night out with her coworkers won’t be such an awful idea. Logan tells her that he and Annie will be at hers to pick her up at eight-thirty, so she better be ready.

“I don’t think I should go.”

Niall doesn’t bother stifling his sigh this time, doesn’t look up from whatever he’s doing on his laptop, and Emilie sticks her tongue out at him. In his defence, she’s waffled between going and staying home since she stepped through the door. Now she’s stood in the middle of their bedroom in only her underwear, rifling through the clothes hanging up and trying to think of a valid reason to say no.

Ryder hasn’t thrown up since this morning, which is one less worry on her mind. But... she has to prove to Niall that she trusts him. One shift away from the two of them isn’t enough. She knows this. She just hates feeling like she’s being selfish.

“Babe -“

“No. I’m not entertaining this argument any more.” Niall finally sets his laptop aside, reaches for her. “You’ve worked at Tiny Tots for six months, and you have never once hung out with your coworkers outside of work. You deserve to have fun, let off steam, and be an individual person.”

“You’re right,” she admits after a long minute, nodding succinctly to convince herself that he’s absolutely correct.

“Of course I am. Now go on, get ready.”

Emilie finds an off-the-shoulder belted dress towards the back of her line of clothes, biting her lip as she stares at it. Will she be too dressed up if she wears it? Grumbling to herself that she should have asked what the others are wearing, she tugs it off the hanger and hurries to get it on.

Now that she’s dressed, her stomach flutters, and her hand start shaking. The only people she has ever gone out to a bar with have been Monica and Derek, and even then, that was after hanging out at each other’s homes multiple times first - and only if she knew without a doubt that Danielle wouldn’t be hounding her for a babysitter. But she doesn’t let herself change her mind again. As nerve-wracking as this is, it’s also the best choice she can make for the night.

It took its toll on her, going between work and home with no socialisation outside of her coworkers, professors, and the people she lives with. It brought about a physical aching in her chest to stare at the same four walls day after day. Feeling so isolated had only exacerbated her unhappiness, so going out tonight can only help. Right?

“I’ll keep my phone turned up,“ she promises as she heads downstairs, tottering slightly in her heels. “Call if there are any problems.”

Niall’s hands are gentle but firm on her shoulders, and he holds her still to press a kiss to her pink-tinted lips. “I just want you to focus on being a gorgeous woman out with her friends and stop worrying about us. Ry and I will be fine.”

“I know. I, uh, I’m not good at this.”

“I noticed. Just... have fun. That’s your only goal for tonight.”

With another kiss, he steers her to the front door, hands her the purse hanging on the hook, and pulls open the door. Annie’s Honda sits out front already, the bass-line of her music thumping quietly. Emilie lets out a soft laugh and assures Niall that she will be home before midnight. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, just watches her go. Annie cheers when Emilie slides into the passenger seat, pulling out onto the street, and Emilie watches her boyfriend and home disappearing from view.


	61. sixty-one.

Josh and Elaine are already in a booth, chatting as they drink their beers, by the time Logan, Annie, and Emilie walk in. Emilie spends the first twenty minutes shifting uncomfortably in her seat, her skin clammy, while the others share inside jokes and asked about bits of their personal lives that Emilie isn’t privy to.

Emilie hates that she’s hoping for Niall to call, to give her a reason to end this night, even while she laughs at Logan mimicking some helicopter parent. It isn’t fair to her coworkers, it isn’t fair to Niall, but most of all… it isn’t fair to her. Her boyfriend is right - she deserves to have time to herself. To be someone other than a surrogate mother who only works, raises a child, and spends time with her partner.

It isn’t until an hour later, after Niall has sent her a picture of a sleeping Ryder, that Annie sets her martini on the table and her gaze flickers between Emilie’s phone and face. Thankfully, Annie doesn’t seem to be judging the not-so-subtle checks for notifications that Emilie has been doing since she finished her first beer.

“So I know we all joke about Josh being a worse gossip than some old biddy, but he’s been perfectly respectful and not told us a damn thing about why you left.” Annie smiles softly, reaching out to leave a gentle touch on Emilie’s hand. “You know we’re here for you, right?”

“Yeah, I do. And I appreciate it. I haven’t been a very good friend, have I?”

“We understand,” Josh rushes to assure her, and the others agree either with nods or by raising their glasses.

“I guess, well, we just went through a rough patch, but we’re okay now.”

Elaine grimaces. “So you broke up then got back together?”

“No, no, we didn’t. He just... he was busy with work, so I went back to Austin to visit my family and friends. He and I needed some space apart.”

And as much as Emilie knows it’s ill-advised, she still switches her beer for a Mai Tai and drinks it as fast as she can. The “rough patch” is over now, she and Niall are doing splendidly lately. But the cold rush of fire down her spine reminds her too intimately about the separation, clings tightly to her nerves and reminds her that it could happen again.

“C’mon, guys - no, Annie, you’ve had, yes, you’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

Emilie giggles, albeit a tad drunkenly, and stumbles to her feet. Elaine leans into her, and the pair follows Logan toward the door; Josh and Annie are close behind. Claiming carsickness, Emilie climbs up into the front seat of Logan’s SUV - he refrained from drinking while the group was at the bar, so Emilie trusts that there’s a much smaller risk of any kind of accident while he drives them all home.

He’s a wonderful sport, bearing up nicely as the other four sing along to the radio. He even manages to not wince when the cacophony of slurred voices hit shrill pitches. As he pull up outside of the house, Emilie reaches into the backseat, pats Annie and Elaine’s knees, and says a wobbly goodnight.

“We so need to do this again,” she announces as she hugs Logan tightly. “Holy crap, did I need this.”

She closes the door on their loud, enthusiastic shouting and laughs while she makes her way through the gate on unsteady knees. Niall meets her just inside the front door, reaching out immediately to help keep her stable on her feet, and she tries almost desperately to kiss him. He just won’t stand still, however, so her lips just skim the air inches from his cheek. He huffs out a laugh and leans around her to lock the door. She frowns when he crouches down.

“Wha’doin’?” she whines. “Kiss me!”

He doesn’t bother replying, just slips the heels off her feet and presses his lips to the skin right above her knee. Emilie pouts but lets him lead her up the stairs, his hand gentle on her back, the warmth bleeding through the thin fabric of her dress. She pulls away long enough to stop in the doorway to Ryder’s room and smiles when she sees him fast asleep, sprawled like a starfish across the bed with Lionel the Lion clutched tightly in one chubby fist.

“He woke up once,” Niall murmurs, “but I told him you were with friends and you’d be home soon, and that you missed him so much.”

“He fell back asleep easily?”

And somehow, Niall knows what she means, the deeper significance to her simple question, and his lips brush against the side of her neck. “He trusts that you’re not ever going to abandon him, Em. He knows he can rely on you to always be there, even when you’re not here.”

Emilie barely gets changed into an oversized T-shirt and brushes her teeth before the exhaustion takes over. She does a piss-poor job of removing her makeup, but she doesn’t care, not when the bed is so near and her body is begging to just give up for the night. So she just crawls between the sheets with mascara on her lashes and splotchy foundation on her skin, falling asleep quickly curled into Niall’s side.

Someone with a jackhammer managed to wiggle their way into her skull overnight, that’s the only explanation for how badly Emilie’s head is pounding the next morning. Thankfully, the curtains are still drawn tightly, so at least there is no sunlight sending spikes through her eyes. Silver lining and all that.

Emilie rolls over in bed and slowly peels her eyes open. The other side of the mattress is empty, the bedspread already smoothed out, and the blanket is cold when she reaches for it. Niall must have gotten up with Ryder this morning. Sighing, she carefully pushes herself to sit up, winces when the pounding in her head grows more forceful. Blood roars in her ears, a wet swish-thump-swish that exacerbates the nausea roiling in her stomach.

She grabs her phone to check the time, the digits blurring for a moment until she blinks a few times. **11:47**. This is the latest she’s ever slept, barring when she had the flu. Emilie scrubs a hand over her tired eyes and unlocks her phone. The text to her coworkers takes ages to compose - she keeps yawning and closing her eyes against the pain in her head. But eventually, she gets the quick message of _I’m still alive, and whoever bought that last drink owes me $10 for a new bottle of ibuprofen_ typed up and sent.

Derek, Monica 🖤  
  
**Emilie says:** Seriously don’t know why I thought drinking anything other than moscato would be a smart idea omg save meeeee  


Once the text to Derek and Monica has been delivered, Emilie bites her lip then brings up her internet browser. Tapping at the icon in her bookmarks, she clambers out of bed and weaves toward the bathroom. The page finally loads just as she finishes combing her hair, so Emilie reads the blogger’s latest posts while she brushes her teeth.

> _i honestly cannot handle this. he's back with her which whatever, we already knew that (even if we think he’s a dumbass for it), but now she’s been seen out at a bar with other guys?? while niall is - presumably - at home taking care of her kid?? does our fav dumb blond know he’s being cheated on? can someone just get this chick out of the picture?!_
> 
> _look, she isn’t even CUTE. and who in their right mind would think that kind of dress is appropriate for anything other than hooking up? have to admit she has good taste in guys though. first niall and now this guy - he’s a cutie, i guess._

Emilie rolls her eyes, instantly regretting it when the pain in her skull gets worse, but she can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up. Of course the blogger would jump to conclusions. If Emilie wasn’t a mid-twenties adult, she probably would’ve done the same. Though she is far too mature for this petty “vague-booking”, Emilie opens up her Facebook app and updates her status to nothing more than a string of laugh-cry emojis.

After rinsing her mouth out, Emilie puts her toothbrush back in its holder, turns off the light, and pads across the room to the bureau. She doesn’t bother changing her top - or putting on a bra, for that matter - just grabs a pair of cotton shorts and tugs them. Her phone vibrates in her hand as she makes her way to the stairs.

Derek, Monica 🖤  
  
Derek  
**Derek says:** I could’ve told you to stay away from anything more than wine. You’re a lightweight babe  
  
**Emilie says:** And you’re a dick 😇  
  
**Emilie says:** Now go to work.  
  
Derek  
**Derek says:** I AM at work, thank you very much. Just on break  
  
Monica 🖤  
**Monica 🖤 says:** Because he work soooo hard🙄 hope your hangover goes away, Beanie Baby! Give your boys hugs and kisses from me!  
**Emilie says:** I’m not kissing my boyfriend for you, piss off he’s mine 🖤  


She puts her phone away and steps off the last stair, coming to a stop at the bottom. “Hey, it’s the Fredster!”

Louis laughs as Freddie drops his car to the floor, scrambles to his feet, and rushes headlong across the room. Emilie scoops the child up and hugs him tightly; it’s been far too long since she’s seen Freddie, and she has missed him as much as she misses Ryder when he’s not around. He grins brightly at her, a spitting image of his father, and presses a wet kiss to her cheek.

“Em! You home!”

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m back home. Are you happy to see me?”

Freddie gives an incredibly enthusiastic nod, kissing her cheek again, then he wiggles until she sets him back on the floor. He goes back to his toys, and she watches him and Ryder play together for a moment before heading to the couch. Niall wraps an arm around her shoulders once she’s sat; this feels more like home than anything else, and Emilie lets out a soft, contented sigh.

“It’s lovely to see your face again for more than a second,” Louis says with a smile, and Emilie laughs quietly.

“Yeah, I’m… I’m glad to be home. Mostly because I missed Freddie, so don’t be gettin’ any ideas that I missed you.”

Niall rolls his eyes and pokes her nose, but there’s no hiding his own laughter. “Be nice.”

“I am! I said I missed Freddie, how much nicer am I supposed to be?”

“Miss Wee?”

Emilie blinks owlishly at Ryder, trying to decipher what he’s said, and then it clicks. She promises the toddler that she did indeed miss Louis, she is only teasing him because he’s her friend and that’s what friends do sometimes. Ryder frowns but accepts her words at face-value, turning back to the Hot Wheels without another word. Niall nudges her, gestures toward the kitchen with his chin.

“Coffee is ready if you want some.”

“When do I not want coffee?” she snorts as she climbs to her feet, stepping carefully over Freddie as he zooms underfoot in his hands and knees.

The sunshine coming in through the patio doors sends waves of aching through her skull, but Emilie ignores it and moves to stare out over the backyard. A bird flies overhead, a black silhouette against an endless blue sky, and her skin warms with the sunlight. The echo of a voice laughs in the back of her mind.

_“Come on, Emmy, Mister Wally is waitin’ for us!”_

_“Wait, Dani, wait up! I’m tellin’ Mama and Daddy if you don’t stop right now.”_

_Danielle’s brilliant smile, rivalled only by the mid-July sun, her blonde hair swirling around her thin face in the breeze. Long, slender fingers reaching for her eight-year-old stepsister’s, now that the wedding is over; floral-print fabric waving and dancing around bare feet._

_“Well, hurry up then! Mister Wally ain’t gonna wait much longer.”_

_“My legs are too short, and you know it.”_

_But small Emilie bustled faster, even when twigs stabbed at the bottoms her feet and rocks scraped her skin. The pair finally came to a stop at the edge of an expansive field, the green dotted with black and white and brown and all three at once. Danielle helped Emilie clamber up onto the top railing of the fence, and they watched as Mister Wally rode out from his barn, the trusty palomino never faltering as it trotted across the field to round up the cattle._

_“Think I’ll ever ride like him?”_

_Danielle grinned and leaned against the fence. “‘Course you will. I’ll teach ya, don’t worry. It’s what sisters are for, right?”_

_“I’m glad you’re my sister,” Emilie whispered before gasping, waving when Mister Wally galloped past, dipped the brim of his hat in greeting to the girls._

“Emilie? Baby, what’s wrong?”

Emilie sniffles and scrubs a hand over her wet cheeks. She shakes her head, unable to speak, and Niall pulls her into his arms. She hasn’t thought about her childhood with Danielle in for so long, her rage having drowned out all the good memories she ever made with her stepsister. The memories are all she has, but she just hasn’t been able to move past how utterly angry - and hurt - she’s been since Danielle was nineteen.

“She never taught me to ride,” she whispers, and though Niall doesn’t understand - how could he? - he just holds her more tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since we're so close to the end (and i'm an impatient little cuss), i'm just gonna post chapters as i finish them!


	62. sixty-two.

> Danielle,
> 
> Sorry it’s taken so long to reply. I’ve just been trying to figure out what I wanted to say, and life has been a bit hectic lately. It’s hard to juggle motherhood, a job, AND a relationship. Anyway.
> 
> You’re right. You were literally the last person on Earth I’d ever want to hear from at that time. I’m glad that you’re able to admit your shortcomings as a sister, daughter, and mother, but I’m just so damn angry that you couldn’t figure it out before Ryder was affected. He deserved better than what you gave him. He deserved a mother who gave a damn about his wellbeing and was actually THERE for him. You never were, and he had to learn the pain of abandonment by the only person in the world who was supposed to never leave him.
> 
> You regretting what you did doesn’t change anything, though. You’re just really lucky that he’s so little, he won’t really remember what he’s gone through because of you. He won’t remember standing in his Pack n Play for hours, screaming and crying for a mother who never came. He won’t remember all the times he had to come to mine because you were too fucked up to keep him. He won’t remember any of that.
> 
> But I will. And I’ll do my damnedest to do right by him, to never make him feel like that again.
> 
> I’m glad you’re going to therapy. I only ever wanted you to get help and fix yourself. I never wanted you to have a criminal record or be in jail, but if that’s what’s helping, then… I guess I’m glad I called the cops on you. I’m sure you already know, but Dani, I’m the one who called DCFS that day. And I’d do it again if I had to. Anything to make sure Ry isn’t in danger.
> 
> God, he’s such a beautiful child. I look at him, and I can’t help but wonder why you couldn’t get your head out of your ass and just be there. Be a mom. Be the person he could always rely on, turn to for everything. He’s smart and silly and so damned loving. He’s amazing.
> 
> I hate you for putting me in this position. So much. I’m not the one who got pregnant, and I’m not the one who gave birth to him. I hate you for this. But I’m also so thankful that you did. He may not be mine by blood - in any form, really - but he’s mine because of you.
> 
> I’ll keep raising him as I have been. I’ll be the one who stays up with him all night when he’s sick, hold him and comfort him when he has his first heartbreak, teach him how to cook and clean and be a damn good man. I’ll be the one who helps him and his partner plan their wedding and raise their kids. Because I love him. Because he’s mine.
> 
> You are never to tell him the truth. He doesn’t deserve to find out from someone who couldn’t keep their head on straight, someone who hasn’t ever been around even when you weren’t in jail. I’ll tell him when I think he’s ready.
> 
> As messed up as it is to say this: Thank you. Thank you for being so selfish. You’ve given me the most precious gift in the universe, and I will never, ever forget that he’s why I live.
> 
> No matter how much you’ve fucked up, I do love you, Dani. You’ll always be my sister.
> 
> Love, Emilie

Emilie blows out a breath as she drops the pen to the tabletop. The clock reads just after eleven at night, almost two hours after she first sat down to write the letter, and her heart aches with everything she’s put into ink on paper. It’s true - she can’t thank Danielle enough for allowing her to be the one who cares for Ryder.

There will always be a small part of her that resents Danielle, though. No matter how amazing Ryder is, no matter how much Emilie loves being the one to raise the child, she will always hate her stepsister for not doing right by her son. That will never go away, even when the anger is gone.

Folding the paper into tidy thirds, Emilie slips it into an envelope and reaches for the old one, the one Danielle’s letter had arrived in. She carefully copies down the address, double- and triple-checking that it’s correct, then writes the address of her old flat in the sender’s spot. She may not live there any more, but Danielle having her current residence is not an ideal event.

“What are you still doing down here?”

Emilie seals the envelope and sighs. “Had to write a letter.”

“You don’t look happy about that,” Mully says quietly as he sits at the table across from her. “Everything okay?”

“You, you know that Ryder isn’t biologically mine, right? That’s not something you’ve not noticed?”

“Yeah, the fact he calls you his auntie kinda gives it away.”

Drawing in a steadying breath, Emilie explains, as simply as possible, the circumstances of her custody arrangement. Mully frowns when she admits that Danielle chose illicit substances over her own child, reaches for her hand when the tears prickle at her eyes, and she gives him a shaky smile.

“I mean, I’m glad that I’m there for him. That I’ve always been there for him. I just wish it didn’t come with his mother abandoning him so many times.”

“For what it’s worth, you’re an amazing mother. Oh, no, don’t - why are you crying more? Please stop, don’t cry.”

Emilie giggles, no matter how watery through her tears, and shakes her head. “I’m fine, I promise. It’s, it’s weird to hear someone say that and trust that they mean it.”

“Well, it’s true. I’ll keep reminding you of that, too, and I know Niall will, too. Now go to bed, it’s late.”

She rolls her eyes but climbs to her feet. After finding and attaching a stamp to the front of the envelope, Emilie leaves the letter on the counter to put into the post box first thing in the morning. Mully calls out a goodnight as she heads for the stairs.

Today had been peaceful. Louis and Freddie stayed for dinner, the kids got along, and Emilie felt as if her presence _mattered_. And now, after thinking all day about everything in her life, she is much more secure - in her relationship but, more than that, in her decision to accept custody of Ryder. He is hers, in all the ways it matters, and she’s his. No amount of genetics will ever change that. All she hopes is that Danielle stays true to her word and doesn’t decide to come back into Ryder’s life.

Niall is almost asleep by the time Emilie crawls into bed, but he opens his arms for her without hesitation. She smiles at the sleepy sounds he makes when she doesn’t immediately move closer, leaning over to kiss him gently. He sighs, a quiet exhalation, and his body goes lax beside her. A sliver of guilt twines up her spine, but she shoves it away. If Niall hadn’t wanted to stay awake until she came to bed, he wouldn’t have. She knows better than to try to control his decisions, or feel like she has any strong persuasion over what he chooses to do.

The thought comes quickly, no warning at all, and Emilie can’t quite draw in a breath. But there’s no undercurrent of fear, of panic or doubt. Instead, it feels like the right thing. The only thing she can do to prove, once and for all, that Ryder will always be her child, even if she didn’t give birth to him.

“Babe, you still awake?”

“Mmyeah, ‘s’wrong?”

“I think I’m going to get Ry’s last name changed to Ellis. Danielle already said she won’t take him away from me, not since I’m the only one he’s had as a maternal figure. And… I dunno. Is it stupid?”

“Not stupid,” he assures her, words slurred and fuzzy around the edges, “’s’good idea.”

Emilie rolls her eyes, presses her lips to the curve of his jaw. “Go to sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow. I love you.”

He breathes out a response, but he’s too far gone for his words to make sense. Emilie blows out a breath, settles down against his side, and bites back a smile. Now that she’s given form to the thought, the plan can’t be put into action fast enough. She drifts off in the comfort of Niall holding her and the warmth of knowing that this can only be the start of better things.


	63. sixty-three.

Emilie relaxes further into the cushion of the couch, closing her eyes as Ryder lets out a shuddering breath. This is the first chance she has had to relax - actually relax - since she wrote the letter to Danielle. Granted, this relaxation comes at the cost of her comfort, considering the toddler currently asleep on her chest, but it gives her a valid excuse to not do anything.

Her phone vibrates on the coffee-table, disrupting the quiet, and she checks that it hasn’t woken Ryder before reaching for it. Paige’s face is on the screen, the familiar lovely smile that has helped Emilie through so much trouble. She kisses Ryder’s hair and presses the button to accept the video-call. The angle is awkward, but she doesn’t mind if it means she gets toddler cuddles while also seeing her mama’s face.

“Hey, sweet - oh, lord, is he asleep?”

Emilie laughs softly, nodding. “Yeah, for the last, like, half-hour. He played hard today.”

“So why ain’t he in bed?”

“He wanted to stay up ‘til Niall came home.” Emilie shrugs as much as she can with a child’s head on her collarbone. “He hasn’t fought sleeping on his own for a while, so I gave in.”

“Well, I woulda called sooner if I’d known he’d be asleep.”

“It’s okay, Mama. He’s out cold, so we can talk.”

Paige smiles and shakes her head. “Am I gonna like this talk?”

“Uh, maybe.”

Emilie exhales sharply and moves, slowly enough that Ryder doesn’t wake, to sit up. When all he does is lets out a soft sigh and squirm closer, she sighs in relief. Paige watches her closely, but it does nothing except make it harder for Emilie to grab hold of her thoughts, the right way to say this. There isn’t any way of knowing how her stepmother is going to take this news.

Danielle may be Ryder’s biological mother, but Emilie doesn’t care about her opinion. But Paige? She’s an entirely different story.

“Okay, so I’ve been taking care of Ryder pretty much since he was born, right, and now I have custody of him? Like, full-on legally adopted him and everything? And I know that you love him, and you probably won’t be happy about this and I’m sorry, but I wanna change his last name to mine.”

Emilie’s mouth closes with a clack of teeth, her words floating heavily in the air, and Paige stares at her through the video chat. There is nothing on her mama’s face to give away what she’s feeling, and whether that’s good or bad, Emilie will never know. She’d thought being able to see Paige’s face would ease any nervousness - but this is worse, she thinks, than if she only had auditory reactions.

“Mama? Can-can you say something? Gettin’ kinda nervous over here.”

“Sorry, honey,” Paige begins before leaning forward with her fingertips pressed to her forehead. “I think I knew this was coming. I’ll be honest, baby, a small part of me wants to be selfish and tell you don’t you dare, ‘cause then it feels like I’m losing that connection to him.”

“But?” Emilie presses when Paige doesn’t say anything for a long minute.

“Em, you’ve been that boy’s mama since the day he was born, never mind the fact he didn’t come from your body. It’s only right that he has your last name.”

Emilie swallows, wipes at her eyes with one hand. “Mama, if you don’t want me to, then I won’t. He’s your grandbaby, I don’t wanna make you unhappy.”

“Honey, you make me so proud. I’m thrilled to call you my bonus daughter. That will never, ever change.” Paige shrugs and reaches off-screen. She sips at her tea then sets the mug aside. “Honestly, I think it’s best you do it.”

“Really? Why?”

Her answering smile is wobbly, but it’s there, assuring Emilie in ways words hardly would. “Yes, really. If anything, it’ll prevent questions in the future why he’s got a different name than you. He call you Mama yet?”

“Nah, I’m still An’ Em.”

“Give it time,” Paige says knowingly, enigmatically, but Emilie doesn’t question it. There’s no point - Paige won’t say anything if she doesn’t want to, if she doesn’t think it’s time.

“Okay, I think that’s Niall out front. Uh, thanks, Mama. Really. I just…”

“I understand, sweetheart. Tell that baby I love him, and tell Niall I said hello. I love you, all of you.”

“Love you, too, Mama.”

Emilie hangs up and tosses her phone onto the cushion beside her. Paige’s words echo in her head, twisting over themselves as her mind tries to find a weak point, any evidence that her stepmother was being untruthful. Emilie knows Paige would never lie to her - especially not with something of this magnitude - but she can’t help but feel that maybe the older woman is downplaying just how much it affects her to hear Emilie’s plans.

Niall shuffles into the living room, shoulders slumped, and drops to sit next to her. It isn’t but a second later that he’s reaching under his ass to pull her phone out from under him. Emilie shrugs and leans toward him for a kiss. He obliges easily enough, but a frown plays on his lips when he pulls back.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She shakes her head at his disbelieving expression. “No, I promise. Nothing is wrong. I just, uh, just got off the phone with Paige. Told her about wanting to give Ryder my last name.”

“How did she take it?”

Emilie pauses. If she says she doubts Paige’s response, then it opens her up to the risk of admitting that she doesn’t quite trust her stepmother. But it would be dishonesty if she says that Paige was completely in favour of it. So she tells Niall that Paige said it was a good idea. It’s the closest she can come to the truth.

Niall yawns widely then reaches for Ryder. Emilie doesn’t bother arguing, doesn’t even attempt to point out how exhausted Niall already is, and that he probably shouldn’t carry a sleeping toddler up a flight of stairs. She just lets him pull Ryder in against his chest, her hands at the ready to catch him if he falls, and stands when Niall does.

Thankfully, Ryder stays asleep even as Niall tucks him into his bed, as the adults tiptoe quietly from the room. She watches Niall ready for bed, her mind drifting from the conversation with Paige to this, the love she feels for her boyfriend, everything they have gone through to get to this point. It has been heavenly and hellish, highs and lows, undeniable pleasure and tumultuous pain, all wrapped up in one.

If this doesn’t work - if Niall and Emilie can’t make this second chance work - she’s sure that this will be the last love she searches for. It may be melodramatic, but he is it. She’ll never find anyone who makes her feel so safe, so at home just by being at his side. Marriage is something she can’t quite wrap her mind around, not yet.That doesn’t mean she isn’t going to at least _try_ to consider that eventuality.

**[-_-_-_-]**

It comes out of left field - no lead-up, no prior thinking, but it’s there. And Emilie wonders why it never crossed her mind before. She glances up at Niall, sat across from her at the table as he talks about the promotion he has to do for his new album. The words burst from her without permission, but it’s too late to take them back now.

Niall stops talking in the middle of a word, stares at her blankly for a moment. “What?”

“Why haven’t I met your parents yet?” She shrugs, pushing peas around her plate, then sighs. “You’ve met all three of mine now.”

“I- I don’t know.”

“Are... are you ashamed? Of me basically having a kid, I mean?”

“What? No, of course not. Can we talk about this later?” he pleads quietly with a pointed look in Ryder’s direction.

“I guess.”

Her appetite is gone, though. She sits there until Ryder has finished his meal, but she doesn’t take another bite. Now that she’s asked the question, all her mind will allow is overthinking the situation, trying to come up with a plausible explanation that doesn’t break her heart. Is he waiting for her to agree to marry him first? It makes sense, she supposes - no point in letting your girlfriend meet your parents if you’re just going to end up breaking up with her.

“Emilie, stop.” Niall shoves to his feet, rounds the table, and crouches next to her. “You’re letting your mind get away from you, love. I promise that whatever you’re thinking is incorrect, okay? We will definitely talk about this, but I don’t want to have this discussion in front of Ryder.”

Emilie squeezes her eyes closed and draws in a shaky breath, nodding. Right, not risking an argument in front of the child. Niall presses his lips to her temple, keeps them there for a few seconds, then murmurs an _I love you_ into her skin. She lets his words anchor her to the present instead of the dark thoughts swirling around in her brain. Her mother said to trust him. Her heart says to trust him.

All she has to do is get through the next few hours until Ryder goes to bed, then they can have this talk.

She can do this.


	64. sixty-four.

Niall’s hand is warm, firm, on her back, and Emilie lets him guide her away from Ryder’s doorway. To her surprise, he doesn’t stop by their bed; he smiles knowingly at her puzzled expression but continues on toward the bathroom. She leans against the counter and watches as he twists the taps on tub, before turning back to her. His fingers dance along her hips, feather-soft against her skin, and he smiles victoriously once her shirt is on the floor.

Her giggle echoes across the short distance between them, and she stretches up to kiss him gently even as his hands work the button on her denim shorts. Everything in her mind has short-circuited, vanishing into obscurity with the heat of his body so close and his lips moving against hers. She can barely think straight, and the world spins blurringly around her. Her skin ripples with goosebumps, cold air meeting bare flesh under hot hands.

“Cruel,” she gasps when he suddenly steps back, but all he does is laugh and tug her toward the tub..

“Got your mind off earlier, didn’t it?”

She blows out a breath, willing her heart to calm down before it bursts straight out of her chest, and Niall helps her step into the bathtub. She lowers herself to sit in the bottom, relaxing almost immediately in the heat of the water, as he strips. Once he’s turned off the taps, he follows suit, settling in at the other end of the tub. Emilie lets her fingertips run along his shin, from kneecap to ankle and back, as she rests her head against the wall.

“Ready to talk now?” he asks quietly, peers at her closely.

“You met Mom, Daddy, and Mama. We’ve never talked about me meeting your parents. Why?”

“Before I answer,” he starts, words measured and slow, “why don’t you tell me what you think?”

“So you can poke fun?”

“Emilie, when have I _ever_ mocked you for how you feel?”

His sharp voice hangs heavily in the air, and she ducks her head to avoid meeting the intensity of his gaze. Sighing, she hunches in on herself, pulling her knees to her chest.

“Never. Sorry. It’s just... this is so stupid. Is it because you don’t want anyone to know Ryder’s past? That he has a shit mother who’s in jail for neglect and drug use?”

“No, babe, I promise that isn’t it.”

“Then _why_? Just tell me. Because right now, I can’t help but wonder if you don’t want me to because you wanna dump me anyway.”

Her words are far too honest, pleading, shaky and revealing far too much, but Niall doesn’t mention it. He blows out a soft breath and reaches for her hand. The expression on his face flickers slightly at her hesitation, then she’s letting him pull her until she’s settled on his lap, head on his shoulder.

“I... I wanted to wait until you brought it up. I wanted you to actually want to meet them, instead of feeling like you had to because I asked you to.” His hand trails along her spine, pressing comfort into her skin, and he turns his head enough to kiss her hair. “Then we, ya know, we separated and got back together, and I felt like suggesting you meet them would make you feel more pressured to make us work.”

She sniffles and buries her face into the curve of his neck. “So you don’t care if they know the truth about me and Ryder?”

“Oh, love, no. I don’t. They already know a bit, anyway. I told them you have custody of your nephew, but that’s all I was comfortable sharing with them. Mully, Louis, and Harry already know, but that’s because Mully lives here, and you and Louis are friends. So I was leaving it up to you to decide when other people can know.”

“So I’m being an idiot,” she breathes, slumping against him, and he laughs softly.

“Nah, not an eejit. Well, I guess we both were. But whenever you want, I’ll set up a video chat with them until you can meet them in person. Just say the word.”

“I feel so ridiculous right now,” she whines, jolting sharply when he pinches gently pinches her sides. “Don’t be rude.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. How will you ever forgive me?”

“I might have an idea,” she murmurs slowly, leaning forward to kiss him as she shifts on his lap, and he groans into the kiss.

Water laps around them, threatens to spill over the edge of the tub, but Emilie doesn’t care about anything other than the heat pooling in her gut. Her arms wrap around his shoulders, and his hands press firmly into her ass, holding her still as he takes control of the kiss. She gasps and pleads, wanting more, and his smile burns into the column of her throat, a hand sliding between them.

He curses against her skin when she holds his cock, guides him into her, and it takes all of her willpower to not crumble into pieces the instant he carves out a home inside of her. Emilie rests her forehead against his, smiles shakily at him, and Niall brushes a lock of hair from her face. It’s uncomfortable, trying to have sex in a tub full of hot water, but she’ll take it, take everything he wants to give her. If only to have his love imprinted in her cells, her entire being becoming nothing more than his.

“You okay?”

She nods, a jerky dip of her chin, legs trembling as she slowly begins to move, to rise and fall and fill herself with him. His thumb doesn’t stray from where it’s pressing against her, and the discomfort fades away the longer she keeps this steady pace. Air grows scarce, her head spinning, as her stomach clenches.

“An’ Em nakey!”

“What the fuck!”

Ryder grins from the doorway, scrubbing a fist over his eyes, and Emilie covers herself as much as she’s able to with her arms. Niall lets out a strangled sound, head dropping back against the wall. She whispers an apology before turning back to Ryder.

“Uh, hey, sweetie, can you, um, go stand by my bed? I’ll be right there, I promise.”

“It dark.”

“I know, Ry, but I’ll be right there. Trust?”

“Trust.”

“I’m so sorry, babe,” she murmurs even as she carefully clambers to her feet. “I will so make this up to you.”

“Ye-yeah, I’m just gonna…”

He gestures vaguely toward his lap, and Emilie understands. Running her fingers through his hair, she steps out of the tub and reaches for a towel hanging on the rack. She hurries through drying her body off and wraps herself in her robe. Her heart still hasn’t slowed it’s rhythm, beating painfully against her ribs.

She knows it isn’t Ryder’s fault that he woke up and interrupted, but she is still incredibly frustrated that it happened. And now that he’s awake, he is either going to stay awake for the next couple of hours or fall asleep in bed with her and Niall. Both of those possibilities mean no returning to her previous activities.

Ryder stands at the end of the bed, fingers in his mouth and Lionel dangling from his other hand. He blinks owlishly when Emilie turns the light on and closes the bathroom door. She sighs, slumping as she sits on the mattress.

“You, my little monster, have utterly awful timing.”

“An’ Em take bath?”

“Yeah, I was taking a bath.”

“Why Ni-Ni there?”

“Um... it, it takes less water that way. We wanna treat the Earth right, yeah? Can’t do that if we waste water.”

“I take bath, too?”

“No! Not tonight,” she amends more calmly, and Ryder seems to accept it, settling in against her chest. “Why are you even up, PopTart?”

“I miss you.”

And there it is, the one thing that drowns out all of her irritation. Emilie kisses Ryder’s hair and exhales sharply. Of course she would cave to his cuteness. Of course. How could she not? Ryder is pretty much the only person she can rely on to always make her happy and content, even when his behaviour aggravates her beyond belief. Even when he decides to use his skin as a canvas for Sharpie-art.

And yes, even when he interrupts her fun “adult time” with the man she loves.


	65. sixty-five.

As soon as the omelette is done, Emilie transfers it from the pan to plate, cursing quietly when she burns her finger on the edge of the cast-iron. She looks back over her shoulder, narrows her eyes at Ryder sat in his seat. He stares back, and her heart melts at the innocence on his face, the clear blue of his eyes shining in the morning sunlight.

“Don’t repeat that, mister.”

Ryder shakes his head, and Emilie’s laugh escapes her at his clumsy thumbs-up. “No say ‘fuck’.”

“And that’s literally the opposite of what I said, you monster. I said - never mind, you’re two. Ready to take Ni-Ni his breakfast?”

“Hap’ birfday?”

“Yes, we want him to have a very happy birthday.”

Emilie quickly unbuckles Ryder from his highchair, sets him on the floor, and crouches down to be on his level. She presses her finger to her lips, winking, and he nods enthusiastically though he doesn’t actually fall quiet. She expected nothing less of a child who isn’t even three her, so she carefully balances the tray on one flat palm. Her other hand reaches for the mug of coffee she’d prepared for Niall.

Ryder leads the way up the stairs, confident and steady. Emilie stays close behind him in case he falls. She can easily clean up any mess made by a dropped tray, but him getting hurt isn’t acceptable. He stops at the top of the stairs and gives her a wide, proud smile.

“You did it all by yourself! Good job, buddy.”

“I big boy.”

“Yes, you are. I’m proud of you. Now c’mon before Ni-Ni’s eggs get cold.”

Niall is already awake, lounging against the pillows as he scrolls through whatever social media site has caught his attention already - probably Instagram, since Twitter is a hell-hole most days. She’s gone through his mentions before, and some people just need their heads examined. He glances up when Ryder screeches his name, and within seconds, his phone is back on the nightstand.

“Well, good morning, bud.”

“Beffist!”

“You made me breakfast? Did Auntie Emilie help?”

Ryder shakes his head as he struggles to climb onto the bed. “Nope! Me!”

Emilie’s jaw drops at the blatant lie, but then she’s laughing. In a mimicry of her own birthday, she waits until Ryder is settled in next to Niall before passing over the tray. Niall accepts it - and the subsequent kiss - from her then presses his lips to Ryder’s hair.

“Sorry, babe, your card is downstairs with your present.”

Niall pauses, his minute frown disappearing in a split second, and he shakes his head with a chuckle. He’d told her no gifts, he only wanted to spend the day with her and Ryder, but her stubbornness came out in full force. She had decided he was a lying liar if he claimed to not want a present, and now, three boxes are waiting for him on the coffee-table.

Another gift is in the bottom of her nightstand, locked away with her journal. That one won’t be given for a while, but Emilie finds comfort in having it around for when the time is right.

Though he’s already eaten his own breakfast, Ryder politely demands a share of Niall’s omelette, and Niall willingly obeys with each tiny “Bite, p’ease!” Emilie isn’t surprised. Niall may have gotten better about discipline and redirection with Ryder, but he always gives in on the small stuff. That’s only gotten more consistent since the separation.

“My parents might try for a video-chat today.”

Emilie catches Ryder as he launches himself at her, no longer distracted by food now that Niall’s plate is cleared and set aside. She kisses the toddler’s forehead and sets him back on the bed. “Oh? Gonna let ‘em meet Ryder?”

“Meet me?” Ryder bounces on his hands and knees with his head tilted, a small frown looking out of place on his angelic face. “Who meet me? An’ Em, who meet me?”

“Yeah, if you’re all right with that. It’s all Ma has talked about.”

She nods. Who is she to stand in the way of this meeting, especially after having talked to his mother two days ago? Maura had been thrilled to see Emilie’s face, claiming she was much sweeter-looking than in the photos taken without her knowledge. By the time she ended the call, Emilie felt much more... permanent in Niall’s life, and the doubts all but vanished.

Niall grins brightly, scooping Ryder up into his lap, and waits until he has the child’s attention. “Okay, I have a very important question for you, bud. You ready?”

“Yes!”

“Do you wanna meet my ma later?”

Ryder cocks his head and giggles, fingers coming up to pick at Niall’s lower lip. “You no have mommy.”

“What? I do, too.”

“Nooo, daddies no have mommies.”

Ryder’s words reverberate damningly in the sudden silence. Emilie freezes, her heart in her throat, and her breathing grows shallow as she stares at the child. Cold washes over her skin, pricking hundreds of goosebumps in its wake. Ryder smiles up at Niall as if he hasn’t completely turned their worlds upside-down at eight in the morning.

When she meets Niall’s eye, it’s to see he’s just as stunned as she is. His eyes are wide, jaw dropped open slightly, and if this were anything but real life, his head would be waggling back and forth rapidly with the screeching of a early-00s modem dialling up. There’s a question there, painted on his face, easy enough to read. Emilie swallows thickly and gives him a helpless shrug.

Only he can make the next choice.

He draws in a steadying breath and turns his attention back to Ryder. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong, sweet boy. Daddies absolutely have mommies. And my ma is really excited to meet you today.”

“I’ll be right back,” Emilie manages to choke out before she clambers off the bed,

The panic has eased a bit, but she still can’t breathe properly. She should have expected something like this to happen. Paige warned her it was going to happen. After all, Niall is the closest thing to a gather figure that Ryder has ever had in his life. Even Jackson wasn’t around regularly, and his biological father has never played an active role. Emilie can’t be sure that Danielle even knows which man is partly responsible for Ryder’s existence.

So really, it makes perfect sense that Ryder would equate “daddy” with the one man who has been a steady presence and influence in his life. Emilie covers her face with her hands and closes her eyes against the tears. As much as her heart sings with the knowledge that Ryder trusts Niall enough to put him on that pedestal, she can’t be certain that Niall isn’t just going along with it to not hurt the child’s feelings.

The unsteady, standing-on-a-ledge-about-to-fall feeling slowly fades as she stands in the hall just outside the door, listening to Niall and Ryder talking and laughing together. Images flicker into her mind, each one more beautiful than the last: Dinner with parents and showing off the gorgeous new ring on her left hand, black and white and hundreds of flowers and family and friends through a sheet of lace, Ryder’s first partner meeting his mom and dad, his graduation and his wedding and children - all with Niall at her side.

She wants all of that. If he does, too.

The softness on Niall’s face, the tender smile and shining eyes… they tell her he might want it, too. Emilie blinks back tears and moves to retake her place on the bed next to him. He wraps an arms around her shoulders, pulls her close into his side, and she reaches for Ryder. He comes willingly, plopping down on her lap and leaning against her with an ear-to-ear smile on his face. After inhaling as steadily as possible, she looks up at Niall.

“Happy birthday, babe,” Emilie whispers before leaning up to kiss him softly.

“Thank you. I’m pretty sure this is the best one I’ve ever had.”

“Well, I guess that just means I’ll have to find some way of topping it next year,” she laughs, and something passes over his face - there one second, gone in an instant.

“Just you being there will make it perfect,” he murmurs. “You and Ryder.”

Before either of them can say more, a buzzing noise fills the air, his phone dancing across the nightstand. He huffs out a laugh and pulls away to grab the device. Emilie holds Ryder more tightly, breathes in the scent of his baby wash, and smiles at her boyfriend.

“Showtime.”

He’s still chuckling quietly as he answer his mother’s video-call.


	66. sixty-six.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only two more chapters~ <strike>who else is sad about the end coming?</strike>

Maura’s face lights up with her bright smile when she gets her first look at Ryder, who’s shifted to sit on Niall’s lap. The toddler has somehow managed to find a plastic dinosaur and is fidgeting with it as Niall greets his mother. Emilie chews on her lower lip and stifles a sigh.

She knows that Ryder is a child, one who isn’t accustomed to new people in his life - it was a one-off that he accepted Niall as quickly as he did. But she wishes he was more comfortable with it. She can only wonder if it’s her fault, if it is because of the solitary life she lead before Niall burst on the scene in an explosion of colour and love and everything she never knew she wanted.

“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you?” Maura smiles when all Ryder does is curl into Niall’s chest. “Oh, what’s that you’ve got?”

As if a switch has been flipped in his brain, Ryder brightens and immediately launches into babbling about the purple T-Rex. Emilie can’t stop her smile, ducking her head to hide it so that he doesn’t think she’s mocking him. She presses a kiss to his hair, waves at Maura through the connection, then turns to Niall.

“You done with the tray?” she asks softly, and he frowns.

“I can get it in a bit.”

“It’s okay, you and Ry talk to your mom. Just gonna clean up a little.”

“You sure?”

Instead of answering, Emilie gathers up the tray and empty coffee mug, walks out of the room with his laughter following after her. Everything feels right, now. Her heart could sing with the knowledge that even though she has yet to give him an answer regarding marriage, Niall has given no indications that he’s going to break up with her over it.

Ryder’s enthusiastic chatter fifteen minutes later is the first sign Emilie has that he and Niall are coming downstairs. She looks up from her phone screen where she’s been absentmindedly scrolling through her photo gallery to see two of her favourite men. Niall is focused intently on Ryder, his face serious as he listens to whatever the toddler is talking about. And Emilie has never been more in love.

She sits up and holds out her arms for Ryder, accepting the kiss Niall gives her as he transfer the child onto her lap. Before he can pull away, though, her fingers carefully tangle in the chain around his neck. He huffs out a laugh but follows where she tugs him. _God, but I love you_, she thinks as she loses herself in the kiss.

Small hands press against the side of her face, and Ryder squeals, “No kiss! Ick!”

Emilie giggles as she pulls away, and Niall drops to sit next to her on the couch. Warmth seeps into her skin from how near he’s sitting, the press of his arm and thigh against hers, and she instinctively leans into it. Niall raises a brow at the small stack of gift-wrapped boxes on the table.

“I said I didn’t want anything but you two,” he reminds her, but his eyes are alight despite his words.

“And I ignored you. Deal with it.” Emilie scrunches up her nose at Niall’s eye-roll, then sets Ryder on the floor. “Hey, baby, wanna grab the purple one and give it to Niall?”

Niall laughs when he peels back the paper, exposing the strawberry-scented bubble bath kit. “Trying to say I stink?”

“Ry saw it on the shelf and demanded I buy it for you.”

“Bath fun!” Ryder announces, clapping his hands as he bounces on the balls of his feet.

“Yes, baths are fun, bud. Thank you, I love it.”

“We bath ‘night?” Ryder asks, voice drenched in hope, and Niall caves - much like Emilie knew he would.

The next gift is less amusing, and Emilie chews on her lower lip, squirming as he stares down at the item in the small box. She isn’t sure what the expression on his face means. He doesn’t speak for a long minute, but she watches as he swallows hard. When he looks up at her, he’s blinking rapidly, though there’s no hiding the tears in his eyes.

“This… Wow.”

“Like it?”

“I fucking love it.”

He gingerly lifts the wooden guitar pick from the velvet inlay, staring more carefully at the mess of scribbles burnt into one side. Ryder had drawn it weeks ago and proudly proclaimed it was a picture of his Ni-Ni. Seeing Niall’s reaction to that when Ryder was showing it off had given her the idea for this gift.

She’s only surprised that Niall never noticed that the drawing wasn’t hanging on the fridge for a week.

“And last one,” she announces, pretending she doesn’t see him wiping his hands across his cheeks or hear him sniffle. “This one is just from me.”

The journal is similar to his current one, and Emilie had dithered over whether or not to buy it for days. Niall glances up at her, cocks his head in question. She pointedly gestures toward the book, laughing when he sticks his tongue out at her. He clears his throat and begins reading the message she’d left on the first page.

“’Niall, you are such an amazing man. You’ve made me and Ry happier than we’ve ever known, and I can’t say enough about how much I love you. You are funny, sweet, generous, and just so loving.’ You’re also a terrific lover, and I can’t get enough of-”

“Niall James Horan, I didn’t write that,” she protests, giggling, and swats at his arm as he laughs. “Don’t add crass things, or you’ll take away from the actual message.

“Fine, fine. Sorry. ‘Even through our bad times, I knew you were the only one I’d ever love this much, this fiercely, this deeply.” His voice cracks and grows thicker the longer he reads, but he doesn’t stop. “’You became a part of me, and I love you so much. Thank you for letting us crash into your life. You make my entire world brighter, and I can’t thank you enough for that. Thank you for loving Ryder so much. Thank you for loving me. Happy birthday, darling. Here’s to many more.’”

“You, you okay?” she asks after a long minute of silence.

“I’m speechless.” Niall sets the journal aside, covers his face with his hands. “I… I just need a minute.”

“Take your time, babe.”

She reaches out to rest her hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles gently into his bare skin, and he leans into her touch. Ryder stares at Niall with wide eyes then comes closer, climbing up onto Niall’s lap.

“No cry, is ‘kay.”

“I’m okay, Ry, I promise. Thank you.” Niall blows out a breath and kisses Ryder’s forehead. “I love you so much, sweet boy.”

“Love you rainbow.”

Emilie watches as Niall’s face softens, as he blinks again. He turns his head, and his smile could light the entire world.

“Thank you. This was so much more than I expected. It was perfect.” He kisses her gently, a soft brush of his lips that sends her heart into overdrive. “Thank you for loving me, too.”

Her phone buzzes on the cushion next to her, and she wants to ignore. God, does she want to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist if only to drown in the peaceful easiness of this moment. The tenderness in his eyes, on his face, in the kisses he bestows upon her. But he pulls away, chuckling quietly, and tells her it’s okay to respond to the text.

So she reluctantly does, unlocking the device to see a text from Josh inviting her out with the group. Her knee-jerk reaction is to close out of the thread and act like she never read it. She doesn’t, though. Josh is her friend and deserves better than that. So she sends back a “thanks, but no thanks”.

“What was that?”

“Oh, Josh wanting to see if I wanted to have another meet-up with him and the others. Told him I had plans for the night that don’t involve drinking with my coworkers.”

“What about drinking with your boyfriend?”

“That would be preferable, honestly.”

“Why don’t you go play, Ry?” Once Ryder has pouted but toddled to the toy bin, Niall tugs Emilie against his side, arm curled almost protectively around her. “I think Josh has a crush on you.”

“Huh? Why do you think that?”

“Did he ask in the group chat?”

“Well, no,” Emilie says slowly, frowning. “But that doesn’t mean anything. We all hold side conversations outside of the group chat. He and I are just friends. He knows I’m with you completely.”

Niall shrugs. “I’m just saying. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was only biding his time until we separate again.”

Emilie’s mind races, trying to put the pieces together, and everything leads her to the conclusion that Niall might be right. And if he’s right, things are going to get uncomfortable really quickly. He’ll be jealous, and talking to Josh will be awkward.

“I can pull back in our friendship, if you want me to. Make it super-clear and indisputable that he has no chance.”

“No, no, don’t do that. I’m... secure enough in our relationship at this point that I don’t have any desire to make you choose between me and your friendship with him. I learnt my lesson with Derek. Just keep in mind that it might not be strictly platonic on Josh’s end.”

Emilie sighs but doesn’t try to argue. He has a point - if she were going to want a relationship with anyone besides him, it would certainly be Derek, the one who’s known her so well for so long and understands her life better than anyone. On the other hand, he knows her too well, and she knows him well enough that there is zero attraction there. She does, however, make a mental note to talk to Josh the next time she sees him.

It isn’t until she and Niall are tucking Ryder into bed that she realises his phone hasn’t gone off all day, that she saw it this morning when his mother called but not again since. Even when they were doing nothing more than watching television, he wasn’t messing about on his phone as he normally does. He just kept her pulled into his side with Ryder against his chest, the three of them enjoying the time together.

Ryder reaches up and pats Niall’s cheek. “Night-night, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, Ry. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Emilie doesn’t bother going back downstairs; she made sure to lock the doors and set the alarm before they came up to Ryder’s room, so the rest of the night is free to do whatever she and Niall want. And right now, all she wants is to end his birthday on a high note, but the pesky voice in her mind won’t let her relax. Not yet.

She pauses in pulling down the blankets, dropping to sit on the bed while Niall brushes his teeth. Wrapping her arms around her stomach, she stares blankly at the floor and lets her brain dredge up the doubts she’s avoided thinking about all day. Oddly enough, none of them are overwhelming, just niggling little pinpricks of worry amid the comfort and security she feels in the relationship.

“How do you feel, Ryder calling you ‘daddy’?”

Niall pauses with one knee on the mattress, then he’s crawling across the bed to sit behind her; his heart beats steadily against her back, his lips warm and soft on her neck.

“It feels really… weird, but in a good way. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah. It does.” Knowing this next question will change everything, Emilie bites her lip and gathers up the courage to ask it: “Are you okay with it?”

Niall breathes evenly, and she can almost feel him thinking. But then his smile is on her skin, and he pulls on her until they’re sprawled on the bed, wrapped in each other.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Tension bleeds from her body, and Emilie inhales shakily. Her stomach ceases churning with his answer, her hands trembling as she wraps her fingers around his wrists. A hollowness settles in her bones, one that sends her floating in the stratosphere.

“Well, then,” she starts, voice wobbling, “I’m not sure if you heard earlier, but dinner tomorrow is gonna be McDonald’s. Your son wants chicken nuggets, and who am I to deny him that?”

He moves away just long enough to turn off the bedside lamp, and then he curls himself around her again. Emilie closes her eyes and melts into his touch, the warmth and safety of his hold. Niall presses soft kisses along the curve of her shoulder, coming to a stop with his lip to the shell of her ear.

“If he’s my son, that means he’s your son, too,” he whispers, nuzzling into her neck, and Emilie blinks back tears.

“He’s always been mine, I just never fully realised it before.”


	67. sixty-seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only one more chapter and i am **not** ready

Emilie nearly trips over her feet the next morning when she sees Josh making his way to the front door of Tiny Tots. Her brain fuzzes out, and she wants nothing more than to turn around, get back in her car, and go home. But she can’t. She is on the schedule, and it would be cowardly.

So she straightens her spine and heads inside with Ryder dutifully walking at her side. Lily’s father catches her eye and immediately ducks his head, turns away. She is almost surprised he hasn’t said a word to her since she came back to LA., but then she remembers she doesn’t care. He made her uncomfortable without remorse; him avoiding her is only a good thing.

Her determination to talk to Josh grows stronger with each step - right up until she is face-to-face with the man. Emilie forces a smile as she unzips Ryder’s jacket, hanging it up in his cubby, then watches him hurry off to the bookshelf. When she stands up again, Josh is in conversation with another parent, so she waits her turn.

It comes far too quickly.

“Hey, got a sec?”

Josh frowns and checks his watch. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Do you like me?”

“Uh, you’re a great girl, so sure, I like you, I guess.”

“I mean... god, this is embarrassing.” Emilie sighs, shoving her fingers through her hair. “I mean, like, do you have a crush on me?”

Josh stares at her without speaking, but after a moment, he leads her further off to the side, where they can keep an eye on the kids without risk of being overheard. Emilie shoves her hands into her pockets and waits. Eventually, he blows out a breath and nods.

“I’ll admit that I’m attracted to you. I have been since you first got here. I mean, look at you. You’re gorgeous and funny. But you’re with someone, and you’re happier than you were before. I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s, that’s good to know.”

“Besides, no offence or anything, but you’d come with a lot more than I’m looking for.” He chuckles and rubs the back of his head, looking at anything but her. “My ex, she messed me up. I’m still working through it. So right now, all I want is fun. Not a family or anything serious.”

“Oh. _Oh_. All right. Sorry if this was as awkward for you as it was me. I just... wanted to know, I guess.”

“You can tell your boyfriend he’s got absolutely no competition from me.”

Thankfully, Josh is smiling, speaking in the same friendly tone he always does. Emilie nods succinctly, though her cheeks are on fire, and hurries as slowly as she can to her assigned room. With the minute she has left before she has to clock in, she sends Niall a text; all it says is _I’m inordinately glad I’m too much baggage for some men_. She puts her phone away before he replies.

Emilie is absolutely certain that if Josh were anyone else, the conversation would have ruined the easygoing friendship. But Josh is Josh, so nothing changes between them over the next week. The knowledge doesn’t even affect how she treats him, either. She still jokes with him, listens as he vents while on break, and buys his coffee when it’s her turn.

Niall asked about her text that night when she came home, and she explained that she had asked Josh flat-out and gotten that response. He’d frowned when she finished speaking and reassured her that he hadn’t expected her to. She smiled and kissed him and promised he wanted to.

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep being his friend if I didn’t know,” she’d said, and that was that.

Saturday night is spent with just her, Ryder, and Mully. Niall left after lunch to finalise some things for the album, and so she and Mully make a plan to take Ryder’s bad mood away. Emilie carries Ryder up to his bedroom to grab the comfiest pyjamas she can find in his drawers, while Mully sets about putting that plan into motion - gathering snacks, juice boxes, and making a nest of blankets and pillows on the couch for a Disney/Pixar marathon.

“Hey, Ry? Want a surprise tonight?”

Ryder cocks his head, tugging at a lock of her hair. “‘Prise?”

“Yeah, a surprise. Gotta take a bath first, though, monster man, can you do that?”

“Bubbles?”

“Yeah, I think Daddy will be okay with you using his bubbles.”

“I miss Daddy.”

Emilie smiles to herself as she starts filling up the tub. He’s oscillated between “Daddy” and “Ni-Ni” over the last week but seems to have settled on the former in the past day. Each time Niall has heard it, he reacted the same - as if it was the first time, and his heart is melting all over again.

Having children hadn’t crossed her mind since Danielle was pregnant. She meant what she told Niall: She saw what pregnancy did to her stepsister’s mind and body, and she has yet to be able to comprehend ever doing that to herself. Sure, it may be the most natural thing in the world, but Emilie is willing to be called selfish if it means not risking her health.

But at the same time, she wants nothing more than to give Niall everything he’s ever wanted.

“You Mama?”

Emilie stills instantly at the small voice, the question asked with such innocence, and Ryder stares up at her. The bubbles dangling from his chin, the bright blue eyes, the messy hair... How could she ever have thought she was nothing more than his guardian, when he’s been the perfect son she never knew she wanted?

“Do you think I am?” she asks instead of bursting into tears.

Ryder wiggles his fingers in the bubbles then looks back up at her. Her chest tightens at his solemn nod, and a tear slips free despite her best efforts. Leaning down, she wipes a bubble from his cheek and smiles.

“Then yeah, baby. I’m Mama.”

**[-_-_-_-]**

The backyard is full of sound, a dozen people laughing and talking above background music. Three children run around, followed by adults, and Emilie grins when she catches her father trying to swipe frosting off the side of the cake.

“Hey, none of that!” She smacks at his hand, but her smile takes the sting away. “You know damn well your grandson would throw a fit if you get any part of his cake before his friends.”

Jackson rolls his eyes but dutifully pulls his hand back. She makes sure no one is watching, turns the cake on its pedestal quickly, and gestures with her chin to the back of the treat. Once Jackson steals a small swipe, she rotates it back to how it was before.

“How’s things goin’ with your boyfriend?”

“Mama told you, too.”

Jackson doesn’t even need to answer - the quick flicker of contrition across his face is response enough. She searches for her stepmother in the crowd of people, though she isn’t angry. Her dad deserved to know the truth about his daughter, and he’s somehow managed to not take it out on Niall. Really, it's a win.

“We’re really great, Daddy. He - no, _we_ both have learnt how to communicate better so our frustrations don’t fester into resentment.”

“I’m proud of you, sweetie.”

“Thanks, Daddy.” Emilie leans into his side, letting him embrace her as he always has done. “I’m pretty proud of myself, too. Oh, my god, Mom, are you okay?”

Rose waves a hand in the air, climbing inelegantly to her feet, but she seems unharmed by the slip-and-slide she’s just done on the grass. Emilie shakes her head. Leave it up to her mother to damn near injure herself and walk it off. A gust of wind skirts across Emilie’s skin. She shivers as goosebumps race along her flesh, and she checks the time in her phone.

“Okay, I think it’s time for dinner, everybody.”

She stands just at the door leading inside, watching as her mother and Greg round up the children, shepherd them toward the patio. Niall comes to a stop at her side, kisses her cheek, and she leans into his side.

Greg ambles past with a child in each arm; Theo is pouting, but Ryder can hardly stay still. Niall and Louis had spent all morning talking about the cake and presents waiting for him, so Ryder has been practically bouncing off the walls in anticipation. It was only when Niall’s brother arrived that the two men were distracted from their efforts of riling up the children, and of course, it’s Emilie who has been left to deal with the fallout.

Dinner is a chaotic mess - most of the adults eat at the counters, unable to fit everyone at the table. Ryder, Freddie, and Theo mostly pick at their food but are more interested in playing, no matter how hard the adults try to get them to just eat. Mully and Harry are no help at all: In fact, they encourage the children to use their vegetables as toys. Emilie stays out of it.

It’s Ryder’s day. She isn’t going to make a fuss about him having fun.

Rose carefully carries the cake to the table, and Ryder’s eyes grow wide when he catches sight of the enormous, fluorescent orange stegosaurus. Emilie stands behind Ryder’s chair, one hand on his thin shoulder and the other entwined with Niall’s. She bites back a giggle at the child’s inability to form a coherent sentence, nearly hyperventilating in his excitement.

It takes Niall’s assistance, but the polka-dotted candles are blown out, three thin wisps of smoke taking place of the flames, and Emilie helps pass out plates of cake while Paige cuts small squares from the dinosaur-shaped dessert. Niall pulls her into his arms once everyone is sufficiently preoccupied with sugar and carbs.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

Emilie shrugs, wraps her arms around his waist. “You’ve been talking to your brother who, by the way, you didn’t tell me was coming.”

“I thought I had, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not mad, babe.” Emilie rubs a hand along Niall’s back as she rests her head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. “I think Ry enjoys having a new friend in Theo.”

“Of course he does. He makes friends with everyone.” Niall fidgets a bit, before continuing, “Ma was so glad to talk to Ryder this morning, and she, she wants to know when we’re coming to Ireland.”

Emilie stares around at her family and friends, the new and old. The cacophony of voices, laughing and taking over each other, lends peace and a sense of belonging. It may be noisy. It may be messy. It may be hectic.

Emilie would have it no other way.

Looking back at Niall, all she can do is smile. She has no answers for their future, no predictions for their life together, so she says the first thing to come to her mind:

“Well, I guess that will depend on how quickly I can get passports done.”

“Mama, Daddy? I gotta potty.”

Silence reigns, Ryder’s voice cutting through the din with ease, and Emilie turns to see everyone staring at her. Niall’s hold on her tightens then loosens, and she ignores the tears in her mothers’ eyes as she scoops Ryder out of his seat. She forgot she hadn’t told her parents that Ryder calls her and Niall his parents, but their reactions are certainly reminding her of that now.

Niall takes the birthday boy from her arms, leaning forward. “You can explain this to your mums and dad,” he whispers, and it takes all of her willpower to not groan.


	68. sixty-eight. [fin]

Emilie shuffles through the front door, feet dragging along the ground with each step. It’s been a long day, and all she wants is to curl up on the couch with her boys and a glass of wine. Or maybe have a Virtual Wine and Whine for the first time in a long time. The last W&W was nearly two months ago, when she was panicking about what to pack for the trip to Ireland, and Derek had spent the entire time laughing at her for being so nervous.

He and Monica had been right - she really needn’t have been so anxious about spending the holidays with Niall’s family. Maura was just as sweet and loving in person as she was on the video-calls, and though Emilie wishes she hadn’t gone quite so overboard, Maura spoilt Ryder rotten with gifts and attention the entire two weeks they were there.

Ryder had mostly just been happy enough to see “his” Theo again, but he quickly warmed up to Maura and Bobby - by the time the third night ended, he was calling them “Nan” and “Ran’pa” as if he’s known them his whole life. Emilie pretended not to notice when Niall disappeared into the other room for a few minutes, coming back out with suspiciously brighter eyes.

Coming home had left Emilie with an odd feeling. On one hand, she missed LA, she missed the bed she’s shared with Niall for the last year. But Maura had made Emilie feel like she belonged there in Ireland. As if she belonged in the family. And Emilie wanted more time with the woman who raised the most amazing man she has ever known.

“C’mere, love.”

Her feet carry her to the couch before her brain can even catch up. She hadn’t even realised Niall’s car was out front, though she must have seen it when she parked. Emilie drops to sit next to him, flops over so her head is in his lap, and sighs heavily.

“Can I go to bed?”

“If you really want to, go ahead.” Niall’s fingers run lightly through her hair, and he smiles with sympathy down at her. “Rough shift?”

“Seems like everything that could go wrong, did.”

“I’m sorry. Anything I can do to help?”

“Just lemme lie here for a bit?”

“As long as you want, darling.”

Ryder clambers up onto the couch, _The Velveteen Rabbit_ clutched in one hand, and Niall takes it with a soft laugh. Emilie closes her eyes and listens to the steady cadence of his voice, the _swish_ of pages turning, and Ryder mumbling along as Niall reads. It’s comforting, the picture of domesticity - something she never thought she would ever obtain.

Only a little under two years ago, it was just her in a one-room Austin flat, always waiting for Danielle’s next screw-up, always jumping when her stepsister would inevitably find her lifestyle more important than her son. Schooling and Ryder took every ounce of her attention, and Emilie was okay with that. Or, at the very least, she’d accepted it.

Then a gorgeous man with blue eyes interrupted her isolation in the middle of a crowded coffeeshop, and her life hasn’t been the same since. He introduced her to new parts of herself, to the realities of love and compromise and all the effort it took to keep a relationship alive. He brought so much to her existence, and now she feels like she’s actually living instead of surviving yet another day.

“Are you excited for next month?” Niall asks as he sets the book aside, and Emilie peels one eye open and frowns.

“I still say that as your girlfriend, it’s only right that I hear the new album before the rest of the world.”

“Sorry, you’ll just have to wait.”

“You’re cruel.”

He laughs and pokes the end of her nose. At his insistence, Emilie gets to her feet, grumbling the entire time, and follows him into the kitchen. Cooking together has become a routine, a firmly-scheduled togetherness in their days; if he’s going to be late for dinner, he still calls for at least a few minutes so that she isn’t alone.

It’s also become a way of communicating more easily. There’s something about focusing on the task of chopping and mixing and cooking, that allows for whatever frustrations they have to come out in words. Emilie has found herself unthinkingly admitting the things she’s kept to herself - whether it has to do with work or the relationship. He’s been able to approach topics that would normally make her defencive on instinct.

And they’re stronger for it. Even when the discussions keep the both of them up late into the night, neither Emilie nor Niall go to bed feeling unheard. Unappreciated. Invalidated. It’s exactly what she hoped for six months ago when she left for Austin. She hates that it took such a drastic move, but she’s weirdly thankful for it.

Niall protests but ultimately allows her to do the after-dinner cleanup, taking Ryder into the living room. Emilie smiles to herself when she hears Ryder immediately start asking questions, Niall answering as patiently as ever. Biting her lip, she takes stock of her body - of any tension lingering in her muscles, any negative thoughts in her mind, but nothing comes up.

She’s relaxed, peaceful, and happy. And it’s all because of the man in the other room with their child.

_I swear there was lightning, coming from your eyes, starting a fire in a hotel room._

Emilie frowns, rinses the dish soap from her hands, and reaches for a towel. She dries her hands as she heads toward the living room, and Niall flashes her a mischievous smile.

“Told you you’d have to wait. I never said for how long.”

“This is the new album? I like it already.”

She catches sight of the case on the coffee-table and crosses the room to look more closely at it. Niall scoops Ryder up, dancing around the room as he sings along to his own music, and Emilie wishes she hadn’t left her phone in her bag. A true testament to how close they’ve become, Niall seems to be able to read her mind.

He gestures with his chin toward the arm of the couch where his own phone sits. Emilie quickly unlocks it and brings up the camera. Once she’s gotten a quick, thirty-second video of the scene in front of her, she goes back to examining the album cover. _That’s my man_, she thinks to herself as she stares down at the picture of Niall stood on a chair, lightning and thunderclouds in the background behind him.

It isn’t until she’s turned the case over and skimmed over the track titles that Emilie freezes, jaw dropping slightly.

“Did you really…?”

Niall frowns and comes nearer, still swaying side-to-side with Ryder in his arms. She points to the thirteenth title, and his laughter is loud, more beautiful, over the chorus of _Heartbreak Weather_.

“I did. Just be patient, love. We’ll listen to it when it comes.”

But he doesn’t stop her from going to the stereo and skipping through the next eleven tracks. Her heart leaps into her throat at the first strains of piano, and her eyes burn with tears as he sings about the sun, moon, and wanting to go back to San Francisco. She can’t move from her spot, rooted there by the onslaught of emotions the song elicits.

“You said it was about something that happened in San Francisco,” she whispers as the song comes to a close, and Niall murmurs something from behind her.

“I never said it was, y’know, the city.” His arms wrap, warm and solid, around her waist, pulls her back against his chest. “This is the song I was telling you about, the one that the album needed.”

“I love it. Can we listen to it again?”

She doesn’t restart it, though. She just goes back to the beginning of the album, lets it play through as she dances wildly with him and Ryder. The blatant sexual tension in _Small Talk_ doesn’t escape her. Emilie is just thankful that it goes right over Ryder’s head.

The seventh song brings her up short. She recognises the tune, though it takes a moment to place it - he played it that morning with Ryder, a month before their anniversary. She remembers wondering why he’d want to use something that screamed of loss and heartbreak, wasn’t he happy enough with her? But she understands now.

Niall told her he wrote what he couldn’t say. His music was how he expressed the feelings he struggled to put into words, and this song must have been his first sign that things weren’t perfect between them. Of course he would put it on the album.

By the time the album comes to a close, Emilie has learnt more about how he has felt over the last couple of years, more about him as a person. Ryder has fallen asleep on the couch while she slow-danced with Niall through the living room, nearly falling apart to _San Francisco_ and _Still_.

She is more in love with Niall than she could ever say.

Niall disappears into the bathroom as Emilie tucks Ryder into bed. He snuffles and sighs but doesn’t wake, so she tucks Lionel the Lion under his arm and kisses his forehead. After making sure he is completely asleep, Emilie tiptoes from the room and to her own.

She rushes through brushing her teeth and changing her outfit for an oversized T-shirt. Niall is barely clinging to consciousness when Emilie slips between the sheets, and she stares at him for a long minute. His breathing is slow and even, eyes closed though he’s not yet asleep, his hand curled into a loose fist between them. Her mind conjures up an image of a band on the third finger.

As she watches him, Emilie realises - this is everything she will ever want for the rest of her life. Niall isn’t her first love, but he’s her last love. No one else will ever compare to him in any way. She may have struggled and fought to get to this point, but it makes it all that much sweeter to come to the conclusion that she _wants_ to be his wife.

She wants that more than anything else, more than she’s ever wanted anything before.

Her parents’ marriages may not have worked out. That doesn’t mean she herself is doomed to repeat their mistakes. Their unhappiness. She and Niall have proved that they have what it takes to work through the hard times. She can use the failed relationships of her past, of the history between her parents, as a road-map of what not to do.

Emilie shifts so that she’s lying down facing him, reaching out to run her fingers along his cheekbone. Her lips tug upwards into a smile when he twitches at the touch, and she stretches forward to kiss him softly. With barely an inch between them, she whispers:

“Marry me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot put into words how much i appreciate you reading this. i began posting this story almost a whole year ago, but i've been writing it for longer. since august of 2019. which is... a ridiculous amount of time, i'll admit. 
> 
> it has been an absolute pleasure to bring to life the story of emilie, ryder, and niall. it has been a wild ride from start to finish, and the love y'all have given for this story kept me going when i wanted to give up. thank you. from the bottom of my heart, _thank you_.


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